Kiss Me Deadly
by LibertySun
Summary: 1940's Noir style/When his boyfriend vanishes, Justin Taylor hires Private detective, Brian Kinney. When the P.I. starts to fall for the kid, will he be able to stay focused on the case? Is this blond as innocent as he seems? *This story is written (7 new chapters) and will be typed and posted this week.*
1. In the Blue of the Evening

No one reads a mystery to get to the middle; they read it to get to the end. Though to arrive at the end, we must begin at the beginning.

The names Brian Kinney. 'Detective' to some, 'Asshole' to most.

Ask around, they'll fill you in. My life story ain't exactly a novel. At best, it's a short story with a disappointing climax and a premature downfall.

Closed too soon, was the chapter when I worked in Homicide. I'd had an unimpressive tin buzzer, a desk sans the family photographs and Carl, my partner; a fella as bitter as the day old java in the clubhouse.

To no one's surprise, my many vices led to my inevitable removal from the force...with force.

What are these vices? You ask. Well, trust me when I tell you that we'd save a lot of time if I listed the things I didn't overindulge in.

Sure, that list was short. Dames. Women, can't live with em'. Period. End of sentence. I got no patience for broads.

I prefer the lower things in life, or the finest depending on who you ask. The stuff that entices my inner deviant, the dismal depths. My comfort zone.

I partake in all of the unhealthy things, in healthy doses; as not to land a three spot under glass.

Smokes, booze, bettin' on bangtails and bangin' tight tails.

Last year I opened my own Private Detective agency. It's legit. This Gum-shoe's on the up and up, but business was slow tonight. I was closing up shop.

As I stepped off of the sidewalk to approach my Jeepster, I noticed this night had arrived darker than last. Or perhaps that was just my mood.

Heavy shadows embraced the sidewalk, a gentle fog lightly lingered.

The sound of my feet on the pavement was muted by the steady jazz music playing through the air. The smooth anthem of Liberty Avenue. It always sang from Babylon, the tarnished jewel of this once shining district.

Most of the joints around here had turned south. Cheap filthy dives, for cheap filthy people.

Glancing up, I saw the night's sea of hoodlums and roundheels pour from 'The Back Room', local can house, flooding the streets with sexual sin. My sin of choice.

Ah, Liberty Avenue. Dubbed 'The land of alternative lifestyles' by the east end's ritzy bluenoses. Where the streets are paved with provocative debauchery. Perhaps one day a pure rain will wash the sin from these streets. For now, it was my kind of town. It was home.

Babylon was the only club on this, the bad side of town, that was still jivin'. A convenient place to dip your bill. To drown your woes in giggle juice.

I started to make my way toward that familiar neon flicker...and that's when it happened. When he came along.

The ethereal glow of the lamp post shined a spotlight on the body of trouble.

It was a nice body. I liked looking at it.

I watched his lips as he inhaled the smoke his slender hand held. He shifted nervously as I approached.

Now, I've seen some gorgeous daisies in my day, but he was a real looker.

He wore cheap leather shoes and an expensive smile.

A smile he displayed on a face that could make the earth forget to spin...and those eyes.

His eyes were intense.

Surely they'd show you your future, if you were brave enough to look.

I wasn't.

I instead focused once more on his form.

There was no denying that this kid was hot. The kind of heat to keep you warm in the winter, and fucking burn you alive in the summer.

I loved summer and hated the cold.

"Detective Kinney?" he asked.

Damn, his voice was just as beautiful as the rest of him.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other drawing my attention to the pinstriped slacks he wore.

And boy, could he wear em'.

The thin fabric hugged him tighter than a virgin on prom night.

My eyes had just been introduced to his ass and already my cock was pleading for me to arrange a play date.

I cleared my throat, swallowing my lust and brought my eyes to his. Yep. They were still bluer than my family jewels.

He peered at me through silken lashes that were lightly brushing his brow. Those eyes shined in the streetlight like stars. I'd supposed, for the real stars were no longer visible in the Pitts. Eclipsed by a rainbow of neon, cigarette clouds, and the heavy smog of lower class.

"Brian." I told him, extending my hand to him. Instinctively it wanted to run along his hot lithe body. I scolded it a bit and clasped it into his palm.

His hands were not as smooth as I'd expected. It excited me. Maybe he was not as dainty as he appeared. I liked tainted. I liked rough.

He hadn't told me his name. I'd venture a guess, but I was patient.

A moment later he smiled and told me it was Justin Taylor.

It was a swell enough name, but somehow it didn't match his face. With that smile beaming beneath two blue skies, 'Sunshine' seemed more appropriate. The perfect fit.

"What can I do for you Sun-Mr. Taylor?" I asked him, hoping for an abundance of responses involving his ass.

Somehow though I knew he'd sought me out for reasons beyond my extracurricular skills. Justin Taylor wanted me wearing my Detective hat.

He didn't immediately answer. I could almost hear the gears turning his thoughts. I decided to extend an olive branch.

"Perhaps we'd be more comfortable in the privacy of my office." I offered, voice full of business. Eyes full of lust, I'd guessed.

Funny enough, I couldn't see my own eyes with my own eyes.

But I could see his.

Those endless oceans that made me want to take up sailing.

He nodded lightly and flicked the spent butt of his smoke toward the ground. It's electric orange quickly faded into the blue of the evening.

A few strands of blond hair graced his face. How dare it hide those eyes.

I almost pushed it aside.

I didn't.

I respectively kept my hands to myself. The same could not be said about my gaze.

I watched intently the muscles of his body as he walked ahead of me toward my office.

Silently I cursed society's need for clothing.

I tailed that tail straight to the door.

You know what they say...

...It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

* * *

><p>Tin Buzzer: Police badge<br>Gumshoe: Private Detective  
>Dip your bill: Drink at a bar<br>Clubhouse: Police precinct  
>Roundheels: ProstitutesHustlers  
>Giggle juice: Liquor<br>Three spot: 3 year prison sentence  
>Under glass: In Jail<br>Canhouse: Bordello  
>Daisy:Man with beautiful, delicate features<br>Ritzy Blue noses: Fancy, rich upper society  
>Bangtails: Race horses<br>Jivin': Popular, Cool


	2. Moonlight Cocktail

My private office was just as I'd left it just moments before.

It was a small space that reeked a bit of failure and under-achievement...but it was mine.

After gettin' the breeze off from the coppers, I'd branched out on my own.

My own.

The only place I'd ever belonged. I ain't never been too good at small talk and socializing.

Moonlight illuminated the room through the venetian blinds.

Slated shadows striped the blond's form. Those damn stars he called eyes twinkled in spite of the darkness.

Seeing Sunshine lined with moonbeams delivered to me, a sudden interest in Astronomy.

It seemed almost unjust to turn on the light, but this was business.

I switched on the lamp at the same time I switched from lust filled man to sexually stifled professional.

My cock invited him to sit down, he didn't oblige.

My hands in turn gestured to a nearby chair, that seat he took.

His eyes swept my office. They'd been the only thing to have swept it since I'd moved in.

I'd found reliable roommates in the dust bunnies. They appeared harmless enough, but I maintained my suspicions.

My attention was drawn to the man's nervously tapping fingers on the armrest of the worn wooden chair. "Relax, Mr. Taylor." I told him, though I don't know that my own trembling voice helped to put him at ease. "I won't bite." I said, "Unless you ask real nice." the lust filled man disobediently added.

The rush of blood to his cheeks had my overeager nether-regions anxious to follow suit.

He sat with excellent posture, had a sort of innocent aura about him. An innocent nature I'd only heard myths about but had never actually witnessed.

His boyish charm reminded me of my days in school. Or as I'd call it, if I were ever to write a memoir 'The 12 years I spent in the Principal's Office.' Of course, I'd never write a memoir. I didn't spend enough time in class to learn grammar.

"Now, what can I do for you this evening Mr. Taylor?" I asked pouring a bit of Jack Daniels and offering it to him. I poured myself a bit more of this moonlight cocktail.

We had a good thing goin' me and Ol' Jack Daniels. Kept me warm and comforted me on many a nights. A relationship far better than mine with Jack Kinney. Though the latter did introduce me to the first; which was the only thing I was grateful to the bastard for.

He took the tumbler from my hand and placed it on his lap. I put mine to my lips and took a warming gulp. It helped the remainder of my body to catch up to the heat of my libido.

He spoke for the first time since we'd entered the room, I had already forgotten how musical his voice was. It was quickly becoming my new favorite tune.

"My boyfriend," he started slowly and looked at the floor. I looked at the ceiling and silently cursed whoever, if anyone, was up there. Whatever cruel S.O.B. that had sent this boy to me...unavailable.

Then I remembered I was Brian Fucking Kinney and when I found a new ride I wanted to take for a spin, I cared very little about it's previous owner.

As long as the body work was flawless and it handled like a dream, and I had an inkling this boy would do exactly that.

His curves were dangerous, but with me behind the wheel, it'd be a helluva ride.

Reluctantly, I reminded myself that he was here on business. This was no time for a test drive.

"My boyfriend," he said again "is missing. He's a jazz musician see, maybe you've heard of him, Ethan Gold?" he paused giving me a chance to respond.

Gold's name rang fewer bells than Santa's sleigh in July. I shook my head.

He went on, "He's been in Harrisburg at a recital. He was set to return this afternoon, but," he stopped and took a sip of his whiskey.

As I watched the amber liquid pass his lips, I licked my own.

"When I got home earlier, his luggage was on the walk and keys were still in the door. Ethan however was nowhere in sight."

"Why come to me? Why not go to the police?" I asked.

"I did. They pretty much gave me the brush off because of my," he lowered his already soft voice "alternative life choices." he finished almost embarrassed. A fact for which I was content with, seein' as how it brought that delicious blush back to his face.

"They practically told me that Ethan left me on his own volition. But, he loves me, he wouldn't do that. He's never even told me a fib." he declared, biting his bottom lip a little.

This kid was naive to the ways of the world. Everyone lied. Those who claimed they didn't...were liars.

I had to admit I was intrigued. Something hinky was definitely going on, for I was positive no man would leave this blond if not by force and threats of torture.

"A gentleman by the name of Horvath gave me your card. Told me I should come to you because of our," he whispered again "common interests."

By 'common interests' I knew he meant our shared fondness for backseat driving.

Carl Horvath was a lot of things, but a gentleman was not among them. Nevertheless, he was a stand up cat. We used to drink from the same glass and every once in a while he'd throw business my way.

For this particular job, I almost felt inclined to send him a cigar and a thank you note written in a pretentious script.

"You weren't with your boyfriend," the word tried to stick to my tongue and refuse to exit "in Harrisburg, where were you? Mind if I ask what it is you do for a living Mr. Talyor?"

"Justin." he corrected me and I felt a touch over excited about this tiny sliver of intimacy. "I'm an artist, or at least I'm trying to be." he answered shyly.

An artist. The occupation seemed appropriate. I knew shit about art but it seemed only logical that a man with skin as creamy as canvas, and eyes too blue to name, would create beauty. A masterpiece in the flesh.

That thought came from somewhere deep inside me. A place that I wasn't familiar with. I took another drink of Jack, hoping he would help drown the thought...wherever it lingered.

"I spent the day at a Galleria with my mentor, Lindsay Peterson." he provided an alibi.

He didn't need it.

He didn't not.

If all the years of mistakes had taught me anything, it was that nothing was as it appeared on the surface. For the sake of my sexual desire, I hoped that Justin Taylor would only get better the deeper I got.

The name Lindsay Peterson resurfaced a hazy memory from a drunken stupor of bad decisions. One night, five years ago, five years previously, 1,825 days before today; I had done the unthinkable. The unfathomable. A Dame.

She'd been the first skirt to say 'Yes' when she meant 'Yes.' I could never think about our time together without...nausea.

The heebie-jeebies found me even now.

I finished my drink and cleared my throat.

"Let's not panic just yet. Have you heard anything, perhaps received a ransom note?" I inquired.

He shook his head, his gold locks swayed with the movement. I enjoyed the view.

"Alright. Can you think of anyone that might have wanted to hurt Ethan? Did he have any enemies. How about you?" I asked though I highly doubted as such.

His silence paused my wonder. Like I said, nothing is as it appears.

I waited.

"Are you kidding?" he responded sadly, "Even my own father hates me. Tossed me out when he found out I was queer."

My chest warmed a little at his words. I was sure it was the liquor.

I knew a little something about useless fathers. Jack's idea of doing good for his family was to completely avoid us. I can't say that he'd been wrong.

They say 'You can't ever really go home again.' Hell, I couldn't even get on the porch.

I was certain the blond's old man was a bastard, yet I didn't like him for whatever was happening here.

And I was sure something was happening.

Justin was too. Albeit his suspicions were a tad more theatrical.

He stood and threw his delicate hands over his face. I heard his sobs but was too uncomfortable to look for tears.

"What's happened to him? Do you think he's been killed? Murdered? Offed? Rubbed Out? Is he sleepin' with the fishes? Pushin' up daisies, takin' the big sleep?" he rushed his dramatic cliche's as he rushed to me, and buried his face in my chest.

My discomfort increased ten fold, as did my want.

It surprised me how turned on I was even with this man crying. I usually steered clear of men with faulty plumbing and leaking emotions.

As I felt a hot wetness begin to seep it's way through my jacket, I pondered the facts. 'Killed? Murdered?'

My glory days behind the tin were salivating for the case. My current days as a shamus weren't as thrilled.

I wasn't homicide no more. I was freelance now. Small cases for big dough. Maximum cabbage, minimum bullshit.

My glory days were coming out ahead. I was becoming increasingly excited to once again prove myself a worthy man of the law.

Besides, this poor kid was really behind the eight ball. Who better than me to help him out. After all, hard times and tight spots fell in my area of expertise.

He needed someone to watch his back, which I'd prefer to do from behind as I attended to his ass, which coincidently also needed looking after.

I decided instantly that I'd keep a close eye on it. You know, as a public service.

"I'll take the case." I told him and felt him pull away from my torso. I liked that very little.

He wiped away the remaining tears from his eyes and stared at me through reddened rims. "I..I, I'm afraid I can't pay you too much upfront. But if you could wait until I sell a painting or…" he rambled hurriedly.

I wanted to cut off his words with my tongue, though I settled for my finger.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can arrange something." I assured him, trying to sound professional all the while laying heavy the innuendo. I laid it down, hoping he may pick it up.

He didn't.

But Rome wasn't built in a day and this case wasn't yet solved.

"I'd like to see Ethan's bags." I requested, ushering us both toward the door.

I turned off the lights.

I remained turned on.

* * *

><p>Breeze Off: Let goescorted out  
>Coppers: Police Force<br>Cat: Great guy  
>Hinky: Off kilterSuspicious  
>Dameskirt: Woman  
>Rubbed out... ect: Murdered<br>Drink from the same glass: Be close friends  
>Heebie-Jeebies: CreepsWeirded out  
>Shamus: Private Detective<br>Dough/Cabbage: Money  
>Behind the eight ball: In a tight spotHard times  
>Behind the tin: Certified Police officer<p>

*Content is born from my own silly mind, however there will be several classic lines I'm going to adapt throughout the story. They'll be listed at the bottom of each chapter they're used. No Copyright infringement intended.

"I'll never think about our moments together without nausea."-Hollow Triumph 1948


	3. You Call Everybody Darlin'

The car ride was uneventful; the way I preferred it while I drove.

Uneventful was one thing.

Uncomfortable was one thing too; but it was one thing I didn't care for.

Justin was quiet, too quiet. Leaving gaps in the air he'd expected me to fill.

I could tell I was makin' him nervous. I hoped he couldn't tell he was doing the same.

Under the collar I was sweatin' like a Madam at midnight mass. What was I gettin' so riled up over this kid for?

I didn't know.

I was afraid to guess.

I'd easily lost track of the time. It seemed this five minute ride was turning infinite.

I did not however lose track of his movements.

And I tell ya there were a lot of em'. He fidgeted his fingers everywhere, except of course, where they should've been... on me.

As he moved his hair from his brow for the thirteenth time, I cleared my throat for the fourth.

Like I said, small talk ain't never been my forte. Usually whenever I spent this much time alone with a man, we wasn't discussin' the weather.

I was about to visit the flask that lived in the glove compartment (in case of emotional emergencies), when his voice announced we'd arrived.

My relief was immeasurable.

Though if I had to measure it, I'd say it fell somewhere between a helluva lot and a whole helluva lot.

I shut off the engine and turned to the kid. His features relaxed. I remained tense.

I looked past him and allowed my eyes to take in his house.

It could have been described with several words that tasted ridiculous in my mouth. Words like 'Charming', 'Darling', and 'Entirely too damn domestic for a couple of queers'.

I forced a smile, glad I couldn't see it's insincerity.

"Quaint." I said simply removing my eyes from the white lattice that harbored roses on the left of the chimney.

My mind immediately sent me a flash of me and this kid in front of a fire. Regretfully, I cut the image short and tucked it away for safe keeping.

The fantasy had left behind a residual thickness in the atmosphere. I needed fresh air before I ravished the kid's mouth for his oxygen.

I opened my door. He did the same.

The hinge of the white picket gate groaned; apparently in agreement with me about the nauseating quality of it's picturesque surroundings.

I got about two steps past the gate before I heard the distinctive click of a broad's high heels.

I knew well the sound of stilettos as many a kitten had come to me beggin' for milk I wasn't servin'.

"Hey Blondie," I heard a high pitched, nasally voice that led me to know instantly this dame weren't no canary.

I turned my head to see a girl much smaller than her voice.

She gave me a glom then rested her brown eyes on Justin, who was smiling sweetly at her. I felt a slight pressure on my stomach and realized she'd swatted me. "It's nice to see you've traded up." she said through snapping gum and an implying wink.

"The name's Daphne, Sugar. You're much handsomer than that horn blower. Yeah, youse a regular Cary Grant." she smiled and extended her hand to me, which I took.

Her skin was as warm as her smile but not as soft as her eyes.

I decided to like her.

She'd told me I was gorgeous. I was inclined to agree.

She was clad in a cigarette girl uniform, stark black stockings hugged her gams as tight as her bodice. I suddenly remembered I'd seen this girl before. She'd been workin' at Babylon for a few weeks now.

Of course I hadn't introduced myself, my time there was spent mostly under the influence and behind a man.

She was a pretty chippy but seemed all flash and no substance. The kinda girl who wore her rags tight and her morals loose.

But hey, I couldn't judge. In fact, I liked her look; it would make Betty Crocker blush and grown men weep. Hell, if I'd been flipped I may have even been dizzy for the dame.

"Oh. No Daphne. He isn't...Ethan didn't..." Justin flustered.

I intervened with a tip of my hat, and retrieved my ticket from my breast pocket. "Brian Kinney Ma'am. Private Dick."

At my words her smile brightened the night. She tilted her head and blew a bubble with her bazooka. The gum snapped and she spoke,"The way I hears it, it ain't so private."

She'd heard of me.

I didn't get my reputation rescuing no cats from trees, I'd earned it through and true.

If I'd been the type of man to blush, I would've.

I wasn't.

I didn't.

Although I was finding that I wasn't so keen on Justin learning of my notoriety. I chose not ponder why.

Justin chuckled awkwardly in place of my response. He too wore my blush.

"Are you always this candid with strangers?" I asked her.

"Everyone I know was a stranger when I met them." she retorted. Perhaps she wasn't the dumb dora I'd first pegged her to be. See what I meant about lookin' beneath the surface?

She was clever and quick. Her wit and tongue were as sharp as her vibrant red nails.

I matched her cute quirked eyebrow with one of my own.

"Hey, weren't you a cop or somebody?" she asked me bluntly.

"I was both somebody and a cop." I said.

"Yeah, heard you went crooked." she snapped her chewing gum again, then pulled and swirled it around her slender finger.

"Well Dollface, I ain't never been too good at bein' straight."

She looked at Justin, then back at me, then back at him. I felt left out. I looked at him too.

I decided to swim in his eyes while he told her about Ethan.

As expected, she was no help.

"I'm no help." she insisted. "All I know is, I don't know nothin'."

The night's full spotlight danced on the sequins of her shoes.

I knew this because I was was looking at the ground.

I was looking at the ground because I'd averted my eyes when Justin had caught me damn near gawking at him.

It wasn't like me, the sudden shyness startled me; so I took an interest in the sparkly footwear of Daphne, 'I didn't bother getting her last name'.

She took an interest in my interest. She eyed me curiously but didn't mention it.

Instead she yawned. A wide, lengthy yawn that still somehow remained graceful.

"Do you have the time?" she asked me.

"I've got all the time in the world." I smiled.

So did she.

So did he.

The latter was by far the brightest.

"Well fellas, I hate to dust out so quick at a time like this," she glanced lovingly toward Justin "if you need anything, anything," she kissed his cheek.

I wished to do the same, then quickly threw the wish away. Back into the night with the stars where such things belonged.

"I'll be right next door. Gotta big night planned with Bing, the bathtub, and a bottle of bubbly." Daphne finished.

"That's a lot of B's." I stated simply for no particular reason.

Justin giggled. That was a reason as good as any. The sound excited me in my excitable places.

I coughed, Daphne blew me a kiss, "Night Darlin'." she smiled.

"You call everybody Darlin'." I smiled back.

"I think that gumshoe's on the other foot Detective." she said cunningly and turned to leave.

About half way to her porch she turned back and waved, "You take good care of my blondie Kinney." she ordered.

I shifted a touch uncomfortable but managed to nod. I very much wanted to take care of blondie. Then afterwards I'd have very much wanted blondie to take care of me.

The caretaker spoke, "I carried the bags inside." he barely whispered as he led me into the house.

We both tried to enter first, resulting in a momentary jam in the doorway. It wasn't the tight squeeze I'd wanted to feel from him.

He chuckled lightly, and the blood returned to his cheeks. The close proximity had my own blood surging.

He turned his trim body unlocking us, and pushed past me into the foyer. The brushing of our chests sent shivers of something to my everything.

Once fully submerged inside, I paused to have a look around. It was just as sickly adorable inside as it had been out. Although it was cooler than I'd expected.

One would only assume that white picket hell with two flaming nellies would be more humid.

My eyes simmered on the kitchen for a bit. I didn't like the thoughts it was cookin'. I imagined this blond makin' me supper after a long day at the office. I decided I was simply hungry.

Yes. Hunger, liquor, and hot little pieces of blond boy ass was a recipe for blissful domestic delusions.

I blinked and didn't move.

I rested my eyes back on him, afraid for them to find the bedroom. There was no tellin' what crazy ideas that room would throw at me. All of course I'd fumble to catch. I was still a tad tipsy and uncoordinated.

I watched his porcelain hands wrap around the soft leather handles of two totes. Briefly I envisioned those fingers wrapping something much harder.

Ah, there's the heat. The sweat expected from this environment.

Necessarily, I shifted my legs. He didn't notice. I'd hoped.

I took the offered bags from him and placed them on a nearby table next to disgustingly cute clipped coupons and bowl full of fruit, too pretty to eat.

I suppressed the urge to comment. Mouth closed, I opened the larger bag.

The clue it contained was two things...Ugly and useless.

I sifted casually through the tacky, albeit expensive wardrobe. A florescent violet zoot suit tucked itself tightly away, presumably from embarrassment.

The color was surely louder than any music Gold played.

Briefly I wondered just how much cheddar the man made. These threads were classy, significantly usurped Justin's cheap duds.

Unexpectedly I found myself resenting this man I'd never met. For puttin' himself above his blond.

His. His. His. For some reason I kept reminding myself of this

Though it seemed the more I told me, the quicker I forgot.

So I had, I think, justly concluded that Ethan Gold was arrogant and had questionable taste in...suits. His taste in men was another story.

An interesting blond book my cock and I both wanted to read.

But now was not the time for a bedtime story.

This kid was a job.

Job. Job. Job. Of that word too, I needed consistent reminding.

I regained my focus and opened the smaller satchel.

It's contents were more helpful.

The first being a business card for Melanie Marcus. Now don't let the feminine name fool ya, she ain't no delicate dame.

She's a tough as nails mouthpiece with more moxy than any bruno. She and I had worked together back when I ran with the bulls. Of course we didn't let my departure affect our relationship. We still very much maintained a mutual disdain.

I asked Justin if he knew why Ethan had seen Marcus; he hadn't. I watched worry flicker in his eyes. I wanted to erase it. In order to do so I knew I needed to find Ethan Gold.

In the bag I also found a hand written note.

Justin hadn't recognized the penmanship.

Neither did I. Then again, I wouldn't.

'Meet me at Liberty Diner, usual time. -H'

After reading the words I handed the paper to Justin. You didn't need to be witchy to know what he was thinking.

I was thinking it too. Was even intrigued by the notion of Ethan's infidelity. Some parts of me were more intrigued than others.

Together, Taylor and I decided to follow these leads the following morning.

Admittedly, I felt a little nervous leaving him alone. We had no idea what had happened to the music man, but the blond had insisted he'd be fine.

"We'll meet in the morning." he said.

"We've already met, but I could get creative with role play." I responded with no shred of professionalism.

That delicious pink kissed his cheeks while a grin kissed his lips.

I kissed nothing.

Except for the possibility of beddin' the boy goodbye.

He'd obviously had a lot on his mind. Though I'd swear under oath I saw an invite buried beneath blue.

I had to get out of there before I ended up in someone in which I had no business bein'.

I bid him goodnight with a simple nod and a hard to read expression. I'd assumed, for I was the author and didn't even know what it said.

I took it on the heel and toe and high tailed it outta there before I could find out.

Once outside I was grateful for the crisp night air. It was cooling down my heated bits.

And Justin Taylor had heated my bits with his heated bits quicker than any bird before him.

I went to start the car but changed my mind. As of three hours ago it'd become my job to protect him.

I released a breathy sigh, leaned back in the seat and pulled the rim of my hat down over my eyes.

I'd throw a Joe behind the wheel until the sun rose.

And I didn't mean that ball of fire in the sky neither, but when that smile once again greeted the day.

The damn thing was like an eclipse. If you stared at it for too long, you'd go blind.

Of this I was convinced.

Though this was worse.

He was overshadowing my every thought.

With that smile and those eyes, I couldn't help but Stare. Directly. At Him.

Hell, how important was eyesight anyway?

* * *

><p>Kitten: Cute woman<br>Canary- Lounge singer  
>Glom-To give a once overlook up and down  
>Gams-legs<br>Chippy-Woman with 'loose values'  
>Threadsrags/duds-Clothes  
>Ticket- Detective license<br>Dumb Dora-Stupid girl  
>Dizzy for- In love with<br>Took on the heel & toe/ Dust out- Leave quickly  
>Cheddar-money<br>Mouthpiece-Lawyer  
>Moxy-GutsBravery  
>Bruno-Tough guy<br>Ran with the Bulls- Worked with the cops  
>Witchy-Mind reader-psychic<br>Bird-Man  
>Throw a Joe-rest-take a nap<p>

"It's funny, but practically all the people I know were strangers when I met them." -The Blue Dahila 1946


	4. Shoo Shoo Baby

Melanie greeted me with her normal affection. "I wondered why it suddenly smelled like a gin mill in here." she exclaimed with complete disinterest.

"It's almost noon, don't you have a Postman to chase?" I responded.

She hadn't been amused.

"Whadd'ya want Kinney?" she grumbled, not looking up from her desk.

"Word on the street is there's been a prowler in the area. I came to check that your locks were unlatched."

"Brian Kinney, concerned citizen." she scoffed, and put down the papers she'd been holding.

This time, when she glanced at me, she'd seen I wasn't alone. "Oh, pardon." she flustered, stood, and approached us.

A tailored skirt hugged her hips. She looked professional, crisp. I'd have thought her pretty if I'd never heard her speak.

"Melanie Marcus." she extended her hand to a very quiet Justin.

"Pleasure Ma'am." he smiled.

"That's only because you've just met. The pleasure disintegrates. Once the new car smell wears off though, the stench of her attitude is permanent I'm afraid."

They both ignored me.

"Justin Taylor." he spoke politely.

"My, aren't you just the most darling little thing. Whadd'ya doin' with this fathead?" she smiled at Justin, and glared at me.

"One, my head is still smaller than your ass; and two, it's none of your damn business." I retorted, but before she got a chance to play her turn, her secretary entered.

She was an unfamiliar dainty flower with a voice as soft as petals. "Can I offer you a drink?" she asked kindly.

Justin shook his head, his decline had me wondering not for the first time if he was even old enough to drink.

Though it didn't matter either way. Anyone old enough to be that hot was aged enough for me. My cock throbbed a bit, it's nod of agreement.

"Scotch, neat for me," I smiled and pointed to Mel with my eyes, "and an arsenic on the rocks for the lady."

"Thank you Caroline." a very frustrated Melanie ushered the woman away

As she went to close the office door, surprisingly with me still on the inside of it, another dame arrived. This one not so dainty, and with whom I was not unfamiliar.

"Lindsay." Justin said surprised, and rushed to hug her.

"Well I'll be," the blonde woman exclaimed turning to me. "Brian Kinney. Where have you been for the last five years?"

"Drunk." I answered dryly, truthfully. I kissed her cheek.

"You look great, what brings you here?" she asked.

"That's what I'd like to know." Mel asked irritated and then placed a quick kiss on Lindsay's kisser.

"You're a bitter little lady." I observed.

"It's a bitter little world." she countered.

Justin began to explain the situation to the dames, receiving several 'Aw, Honey's' in the process.

"So we're hoping to learn why Ethan was seeing you..." Justin spoke.

"Maybe have a look at his file." I finished for him.

Melanie's soft eyes turned hard when they found me, "You know the rules. Attorney, Client privilege." she lectured.

"Come on, just a peek." I added.

"Do you think I'm stupid Kinney?" she glared at me.

"No. I've known it all along." I answered with confidence.

To my utter relief Lindsay came to my aide, "Oh, now Mel, don't bust his chops. Ethan's missing. This could be serious. They need your help." she cooed. I gagged.

"It's not my business to help him no how. I won't do it!" the stubborn broad insisted.

"That's shocking." I said curtly, "No wait, what's that thing that's the opposite of shocking?" I continued into the air.

Lindsay tossed me her best 'Shut your trap, this ain't helpin' glare.

I'd caught it.

Trap shut, I watched her softly touch her lady friend's hair and absentmindedly usher her to the door. I was impressed. Melanie hadn't even noticed Lindsay had convinced her she needed some fresh air, leaving me and Taylor alone in the office. She shot me a wink before she left.

Barely waiting for the door to close, I got to snoopin'.

Justin smiled brightly at me. Apparently he'd found my disobedience pleasurable. I'd have been happy to let him punish me but I had to hurry.

I began strumming through her files, Justin I'd supposed was playing the part of look-out. Though all he was watching was me...not that I was mindin' much. At all.

"Bingo." I called, retrieving Gold's file and bringing it to him. Our eyes scanned the pages together. What they'd seen was unexpected.

I heard Justin gasp beside me and swallow...loudly.

I had a helluva time getting my mind to leave the gutter at the sound. It came about half way out, surely that was enough to still be professional.

"Two million dollars?" he whispered in awe.

I had to admit the jazz man havin' that many clams was surprisin'. Certainly it made his disappearance a lot more interesting.

Two million simoleons wasn't money. It was motive.

We'd also learned that Ethan had recently rearranged his will; naming one Justin Taylor as the sole beneficiary.

The blond was swearin' this was the first he'd heard about any of this. I really wanted to believe him.

As an investigator my instincts usually told the truth. Albeit, looking into those blue eyes, I had to admit that perhaps they was makin' a liar outta my intuition.

Maybe he had secret buried, but so far I'd been digging and hadn't uncovered a speck of dirt.

I refused to believe this kid wasn't being entirely forth coming. In fact, I'd also hoped to have him coming in the none too distant future.

One thing was for sure, if there was something fishy with his tale, he sure knew how to swim.

I chose to believe him.

Stunned tears shimmered in his eyes, he wiped them quickly with his shirt; revealing his tight white tummy as he did so.

My pleasure parts groaned.

'I know!' I mentally told them.

I watched him avidly as he'd excused himself for a smoke. Presumably to calm his nerves.

I attempted to calm my everything else.

I turned to return the 'borrowed' file to the drawer, when I felt a tiny tug on the leg of my trousers.

It was a cookie snatcher, a dirt magnet, an ankle-bitter. Or what you'd bleeding hearts like to call, a child.

'Shoo shoo baby' I wanted to say. I didn't.

Personally I think alligators have the right idea, they eat their young.

Although as much as it pained me, I had to admit this particular tot was damn handsome. He kinda reminded me of... somebody.

"Hey Mister. Whatcha doin'? I'm Gus. Do you know Mommy? Ain't she the cat's meow? Yeah, wow, your hats real swell." he was spinning his words so fast I was gettin' dizzy.

The heebies returned.

They was quickly followed by the jeebies.

I had a terrifying suspicion I didn't want to learn this kid's birthday.

Something told me it wouldn't be too far off from five years ago. Five years previously. 1,825 days before today.

Oh right, he was the 'something'.

"I'm this many." he proudly held out his small hand, five fingers up. "Are you real old?" he stared up at me.

I tried desperately not to see the resemblance.

A panic like I've never known assaulted me. I was sweatin' in places I never knew I had.

My past was callin' collect. I chose not to accept the charges.

"No." I choked, "I'm not even thirty. I'm Detective Kinney." I attempted a smile and prayed I didn't throw up in Melanie's office. As much as her predicted reaction excited me.

"Gee Mister, ya don't looks so good. Is youse about to croak?" Gus asked full of concern.

In truth, I may have been dying of shock, but I couldn't scare the kid.

I cleared my throat and straightened my posture. I shook my head.

I'd've told him to get lost but I was pretty sure this boyscout always carried a compass and I was north.

"Hey, can I see your badge? Oh boy, won't that be spiffy!" he chattered excitedly.

I showed it to him, unsure about the funny business goin' on in my chest as I watched his amazement. He twirled the ticket in his hands for several silent seconds.

I was very anxious to get outta there.

I began to quietly inch my way to the door.

My escape was halted by Gus' sudden jolt upright.

He ranked me suspiciously, and walked over to me. He handed my credentials back grinning like a fool in life.

"I know who you are!" he exclaimed, his little body bouncy buoyantly.

I froze.

Lindsay had better make with the lip flappin' about this...situation.

To my relief he didn't say dirty words like 'Daddy' or 'Papa'. I relaxed and suppressed a chuckle as I watched the little man lean in like he was about to share the secret to life with me.

His voice hushed, he whispered, "You're the Spirit. That sure is keen, a real life superhero!" he shook his head in disbelief, then turned serious, "Don't you worry Mr. Spirit. I'm real good at secret keepin'." he tipped his own hat in my direction.

He thought I was a hero from one of his comics. A vigilante detective. Hell, I'd been accused of far worse identities.

I simply smiled and placed my finger to his lips.

He nodded and caught sight of something near the door. "Mommy!" His screech was bigger than the rest of him.

Looking up I saw a very uncertain Miss Peterson in the doorway.

"Cute kid." my mouth said. My eyes said much, much, much more.

Lindsay met them and read the question they screamed. She put her own eyes on the floor. I waited for her to pick them up.

"I didn't know how to tell ya, see?" she sighed, "I didn't want to make ya," she paused in search of more words. I hadn't needed em'.

"Listen, are you listening?" I asked, sounding dangerously close to 'sweet'. "If you need anything, if Gus does..."

She cut me off when she started waving her hands in protest and shook her head. "No. Brian, I don't need, I can't," she paused mid-sentence and smiled.

Her crooked grin forced my own lips to curl under.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"Brian Kinney, you really are a darb gent." she gushed.

"Easy now," I warned. "It's rumors like that that give a shady fella a bum rap."

We smiled quietly at each other, my silent promise to be there if she needed. It was important for a boy to have a strong, masculine influence.

I hadn't fretted too much, Melanie Marcus was as masculine as any hard-boiled goon.

Ah, speak of the she-devil, I knew it was getting hotter.

"You're still here." Mel drawled, depressingly from the doorway.

"So are you." I answered equally somber. "Life's full of disappointments."  
>Before I gave her the satisfaction of tossing me out, I spoke again, "I was just leaving." I tipped my hat to Lindz and the kid, who grinned and proceeded to lock his lips with an invisible key. Guess he was a professional secret keeper.<p>

I was about to go find Justin when he too, entered the crowded office.

His bright sunshiny smile displayed a bit of an overcast. A gloomy daze passed through the blue sky of his eyes.

That pesky unfamiliar pang of sympathy resurfaced.

I hated it.

I had to focus, we still had the note from Ethan's bag to investigate.

As if it could read my mind, Taylor's stomach loudly growled. He blushed, embarrassed. I too had a sudden increase of blood flow, though mine not so publicly displayed.

I glanced at the clock on the wall above his head. It was after lunch.

I casually reminded him about the note of Ethan's reserved rendezvous; told him we could investigate and satisfy his hunger simultaneously. Kill two birds with food poisoning from the suspicious burgers of the Liberty Diner.

I myself was starving.

Ravenous.

However, I doubted very strongly they'd serve my craving on the menu...

...The delicious ass of one Justin Taylor.

* * *

><p>Goon:ThugTough Guy  
>Cat's Meow:BestCrème de la Crème  
>Gin Mill:Seedy Bar<br>Fathead:Arrogant/Stubborn Man  
>Bust his Chops:Aggravate<br>Bum Wrap:Falsely accused/Unwanted Reputation  
>TrapKisser:Mouth  
>SimoloensClams:Money  
>Darb Gent:Stand-up GentlemenSincere/Honest  
>Hard-boiled:Rough<p>

The Spirit is a crime-fighting detective created by writer-artist Will Eisner. He first appeared June 2, 1940. The Spirit appears in comic books published by DC Comics

"You're a bitter little lady. " "It's a bitter little world. "-(Hollow Triumph 1948)

"Personally, I'm convinced that alligators have the right idea. They eat their young. "-(Mildred Pierce 1945)


	5. Pistol Packin' Mama

The scent of stale grease lingered in the air. I could've sworn I'd felt my arteries solidify just walking up to the joint.

I held the door open, Justin entered, I followed.

The Liberty Diner was as tacky and colorful as the queers it contained.

The hustle and bustle of clanking dishes, ringing bells and the unmistakable voice of Ms. Debbie Novotny swirled in the brightly lit room.

"Brian!" she smiled widely and came to greet me; completely ignoring a customer's request for more java as she passed.

Employee of the month.

I tensed a bit within her hug but I didn't otherwise protest. She pulled back and set her eyes on my lunch companion.

I identified the inquisitive, far too intrusive gleam in her eye.

"Hot lunch date Kinney?"

I gasped a little, choking on the 'D' word. I cleared my throat.

"Gracious, you are goddamn adorable that's what you are." she gushed and grabbed an unprepared blond into her gripping embrace.

''This is Justin Taylor, a client. This ain't no social call." I told her.

"Oh horse feathers!" she shushed me, "You'll sit, talk, enjoy a meal." she rambled, all but shoving us into a nearby booth.

I watched Justin watch Debbie. He seemed as amused as I was annoyed.

Once seated, she sighed and retrieved a small notebook from her pocket and a pen from her fiery hair. "Now, do you care for coffee?" she eyed me.

"I have mixed emotions about it." I replied facetiously.

Justin laughed lightly, Deb rolled her eyes.

"Two pink plate specials in a positive jiffy!" she ordered for us.

This was one tough broad. She'd just as soon off ya as she would love ya. This pistol packin' mama always spoke her mind. Often she'd even inform you of your own opinion.

My stomach tried to gear up for whatever was comin' on those pink plates.

Debbie turned toward the kitchen and I turned my attention to Justin.

He was looking Directly. At. Me.

I wanted to blink but I'd found I'd forgotten how. My eyes locked with his, even stronger than my desire to lock our other parts. His burning blue tried to sear me where I sat.

The heat began south of the border. I liked things spicy.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. I preferred the shades drawn whenever I met another's gaze. I didn't like the way this kid was peeking through my drapes.

At last my eyelids recalled how to fall. I blinked away the singed dryness and briefly averted my stare then brought it back to him.

"She's...something." the blond smiled at me.

"She's something alright, let me know if you figure out what." I told him.

He giggled again.

It excited me again.

"Thank you Detective," he softened. His posture, his smile, his eyes, his voice.

I myself hardened.

Gratitude made me uncomfortable, though I decided I liked it when spoken through his lips. Then again I was sure I'd like anything involving that mouth.

"It's my job." I said casually by way of 'You're Welcome'.

"Here ya are!" Deb's boisterous voice joined us at the table. Her colorful bracelets clanked playfully as she placed our food in front of us. A plain looking soup and generic sandwich.

Justin hadn't paused a second after his 'thank you', before he devoured half of his soup. Apparently feeling my eyes on him, he paused. He peered at me through his lashes, spoon at his lips. Moving just his eyes he glanced at Deb who seemed overly happy the kid was eating.

Deborah Novotny, Mother Hen to Liberty Avenue.

"Sorry," he began wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin I'd never seen anyone actually use.

"Nonsense Honey." she assured him, "You go on and eat." she looked at me.

"So, what is the job, and why has it led ya to my dining room?" she asked, no nervousness just curiosity in her voice.

"A man's gone missin'. Justin here's boyfriend." I explained.

She gasped a bit and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

I retrieved Ethan's note from my breast pocket and handed it to her. As she read, I tried the soup. I was more hungry than I thought; it felt pretty good on my empty stomach.

"What's this man look like?" she asked still holding the paper.

I shrugged, it hadn't occurred to me that I hadn't yet learned this. Surely his appearance ranked lower than mine, but why did I suddenly care one way or the other?

I sat convincing myself that Gold fell somewhere between troll and too embarrassed to leave the house.

"Well, haven't ya seen a pict'a?" she asked handing the note back to me.

"Sure. I've seen loads of pictures, of loads of things."

She sighed and shot me a look. She turned to Justin who was now holding a photograph he'd obviously been carrying.

My eyes attempted to sneak a peek as it passed by them to Debbie's hands. To my disappointment, Gold didn't appear to reside under any bridges, or have a face to frighten small children.

''Oh, hey yeah, I seen him." she exclaimed. "He's come in a few times, meets another fella," she pointed to a booth against the far wall, "always sit there, huddled together, whisperin' close. Not too social like, never even got his name." she explained with obvious annoyance at the man's rudeness.

I looked at Justin and tried to read him. I must've been illiterate. I couldn't tell what feelings he was feeling.

"This other guy, did ya know him? What'd he look like?" I asked.

"Aw hell honey, I don't know, all those bindle stiffs look the same." she added quickly before returning to the window for another order.

"He's been unfaithful?" I heard Justin whisper more to himself than to me. I shifted, uncomfortable with his question.

His relationship with the musician and the problems it contained was something I didn't want to think about.

What I would think about, was whether or not this mystery man he'd met with was the key to his disappearance.

Perhaps Ethan had been having an affair. Surely Justin's naiveté would make him the perfect patsy. He'd be easier to frame than Mona Lisa. If this man had learned of the blond, jealousy could've given him cause to mess with him.

I didn't want to wonder about the opposite conclusion.

That maybe Justin had learned of the affair...first.

If that was case, then Gold's being gone could be an act. An in depth charade at my expense. If he was merely playing the role of concerned partner, Justin Taylor deserved an academy award.

I had a hard time imagining this timid blond seething with revenge. He was kind, warm.

Revenge was a dish best served cold. As was not the case with this soup. The cook, Old man Vic, was tryin' to kill me...Death by under seasoning. It was as bland and boring as the geezer himself. Perhaps I was being harsh. I'm sure the soup was interesting enough once you got to know it.

Looking across the table, I noticed the kid's quiet tears fall into his bowl; the soup needed a little salt.

"Uh," I opened my mouth but promptly shut it. I wasn't no good at discussin' emotion.

I took a swig of my quickly cooling coffee. The bell on the door chimed merrily.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in!" Carl's voice boomed in my direction.

I stood and extended my hand to him. "Carl Horvath as I live and drink." I said and patted his shoulder.

"How the hell are ya, ya son of bitch?" He laughed, catching the attention of Debbie.

I watched the big man's face blush. Deb's own cheeks were as red as her hair. His suddenly shy smile told me one thing, he was sweet on the dame.

It didn't bother me as long as they didn't display their lifestyle in public. There was little I wanted to witness less than these two neckin'.

She told him she'd bring him a meal on the house, then practically danced to the kitchen. Carl chuckled, prompting me to turn back to the booth. He and Justin were shaking hands.

Carl looked again to me, "Nice to see you two boys met up." he said honestly. "So ya think lunch'll give me a heart attack?" he joked.

"Rest easy, I'm sure you'd need a heart for that to happen." I smiled.

He shook his head. "Pipe this," he said as he slid into my previous seat, leaving me no choice but to sit beside the blond.

As I pulled my long legs under the table I grazed his knee. I half expected the neon lights to flicker with the electric shock I was feeling at the contact. I supposed I'd spontaneously combust if I ever actually felt his flesh. I shook the erotic anticipation of going up in flames away and tried to hear Carl's words.

"So after you left the station Mr. Taylor, I did a little diggin' myself. Turns out Ethan was scheduled to play at Popperz Swing Club this afternoon. I reached em' on the blower and they said he was a no show. I was gonna head over there soon," he paused as a still blushing Debbie positioned a cup of joe in front of him.

Justin and I steadily watched the 'attracting a mate ritual' of the straight and narrows.

After what was quite likely forever, we looked at each other, I cleared my throat. At the sound, Carl stopped his sickening giggle and faced us again. "Oh, um," he fumbled "Why don't you boys go on over to Club Popperz yourselves." he glanced at Deb then back to me, "Seems I've just become unable to go."

I shook my head but couldn't help but smile. I tilted my head toward the blond, "Whadd'ya say? Fancy a dance?" I joked in a terrible accent of unidentifiable origin.

He laughed and nodded vigorously.

I slid out of the booth, Justin right behind me. As he stood he lost his balance, sending the dizzying daisy into my unsuspecting arms.

He felt nice there.

I looked down and quirked an eyebrow at him, "Falling for me already Taylor?" I asked in jest...or

... in all seriousness.

I hadn't known which, but the warmth of the kid in my arms was tellin' me I didn't much care to differentiate.

* * *

><p>Horsefeathers: RidiculousBullshit  
>Bindle stiffs: Common street criminalsMisfits  
>Sweet on: Crush<br>Blower: Telephone  
>Pipe This: Listen up<br>Patsy: Fall guy

* "I can be framed easier than Whistler's Mother." -(Dark Corner 1947)


	6. To Each His Own

Liberty's East End; where the Snooty VonSnootens donned their glad rags and turned their noses north.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd walked these streets, which surprisingly were not in fact paved with gold.

As we entered 'Club Popperz' I felt in need of a passport. Quite entirely this place differed from my usual haunts.

For the sun to still be shinin' the place was really alive.

A full swing band weaved inviting notes in the air. Business cats sipped high-end scotch and smoked fancy cigars. Scantily clad waitresses provided added entertainment.

In the far corner several men played what I'd assumed was a high stakes poker game.

Definitely not my type of place.

I liked Babylon. There, a queen beat a straight...every time.

The blue of Justin's eyes sparkled, reflecting the showy lights above us. He was, in my book, classy enough to blend in.

Silently we approached the bar and I recognized the man behind it.

I'd collared him a few times. I'd let him go a few more.

He wasn't so bad as he needed a bunk in the hoosegow.

Ya see, Blake was a bartender by trade, but he dabbled in shall we say, pharmaceuticals on the sly. Sure he was a hophead, but he weren't no sap.

Admittedly 'Dr. Feel Good' had prescribed me reefers from time to time.

When he saw me now, he held a small bag containing several pills. He blushed and rushed to cheese it. I didn't acknowledge the action.

Hell, to each his own. Who was I to judge?

When it came right down to it, our moral fibers were thread on the same spool.

"Detective Kinney." he smiled at me then gave Justin the buzz.

I decided I hadn't like that.

I promptly placed two bits on the box and ordered some corn liquor.

As he poured, I introduced Mr. Taylor and looked around the place again. "Swanky." I said simply before taking a sip of my bourbon.

Blake began rattling on about it's interior design, or some other equally dull topic. Justin seemed interested.

After three much needed gulps I sat my empty glass on the counter and met the bartender's eyes. "Whadd'ya hear about Ethan Gold?"

"That pretentious horn blower?" he asked confused. "Well, I know he's pretentious." he attempted to joke. I attempted to smile. Both of us failed miserably.

He coughed a little then shrugged a little too. "I know he was 'sposed to play the lunch rush and never showed. In fact," he momentarily paused from wiping down the bar, looking up, as if the answer was scrawled there. "I ain't seen 'im in days." he shrugged again and continued to dance his rag along the counter. I followed his movement, the journey led us to the other end.

"What about enemies? Did he have any problems with anyone here? Maybe he talked about his troubles with someone?" I asked.

"The kid got along swell here for the most part." he said.

"What about the other part?" I inquired.

"Well, there was this canary see. Yeah, she was gettin' on real well with the bosses. She ain't had no problem with Gold neither."

I sensed a 'but' coming on. I prided myself an expert on coming on butts.

"But last week, I think it was Tuesday." he shook his head, "No matter. Anyways, he had this friend come in. Big, angry guy, stormed in here hollerin' at our lounge singer. She went by Darren then; before she started puttin' on the ritz and answerin' to Shandaleer. Yeah, the rude brute started throwing slurs around, about Shanda's alternative lifestyle. The motherfella actually got physical. Really gave her the broderick. Scared the customers. The bosses got their frilly bloomers in a bunch and canned her on the spot." Blake clicked his tongue and looked sadly in to the distance. I'd guessed for dramatic effect.

Without asking, Blake refilled my glass.

I knew I liked him.

"Yeah, she's singin' her songs at Club Babylon now." he concluded.

Hmm, I wondered if this mystery man was the same Deb'd seen at the diner.

I'd thought that he'd been a lover of Ethan's. Now I was learnin' that whatever cat assaulted this canary hadn't been comfortable with two birds rufflin' tail feathers.

I was starting to get a headache.

I was also gettin' irritated with society.

Nowadays it seemed you was free to hurt whoever, whenever, for whatever reason.

These folks felt money bought them the right to be an asshole.

One day the violent intolerance in these fancy streets was gonna spill over from the gutter; stainin' the Yuppie's pretty white socks with the blood of the innocent.

If this dress wearin' Darren got angry enough, maybe she'd go so far as to do somethin' to retaliate.

I, for the first time in too long, looked at Justin. "Do you have any clue who this fightin' guy is?" I asked him.

"Search me." he shrugged.

I really, really wanted to search him. I blinked the thought away. "No. this musn't be the time for pleasure."

Scarlett kissed his cheeks.

I wanted to kiss them too.

I felt a strong pat on my shoulder. Turning, I saw the grinning mug of one Theodore Schmidt.

My sometimes friend, my always bookie.

Ted was one helluva a numbers man; it almost made up for his lackluster personality.

I kid ya. Ted had his bright spots. For instance...he worshiped me.

"You lost Kinney?" he joked. "What brings ya to this end of town?" he asked, while he not so subtly eyed Blake. It weren't no secret why Theodore was here. A blind man could see that bookie was hot for bartender

"They's askin' about Gold." Blake offered.

"Oh, Mr. Moneybags." Ted smiled, taking a seat on a stool.

Justin and I exchanged a look of curiosity.

"Money?" Justin asked the air.

I explained Ted's occupation to him and had to admit I was surprised to learn Ethan played the ponies.

Even more so that he'd been damn lucky.

It didn't seem fair, the man's luck.

First, he'd gotten this blond. Then the bastard had won a cool two million with the purse from the triple crown champion.

For a sliver of a second I let myself feel glad Gold was gone. Maybe whatever had happened was the bad luck finally counteracting the incredible.

"I tell ya, I couldn't believe it when he'd won." Ted said in apparent awe.

He winked at Justin.

I resisted the strange, strong urge to punch him in that eye.

"Boy oh boy." he smacked his lips, ''Looks like Gold sure knows how to pick em'."

I made a deal with myself that if Theodore didn't stop his gawking, I'd be playin' chin music.

The longer we stood, the harder Ted stared.

I made a show of checkin' my pocket watch and non-nonchalantly moved Justin toward the exit. The sun was setting and I still wanted to get to Club Babylon.

I hoped one a particular Shandaleer could shed some light on the truth.

* * *

><p>Glad Rags: Fancy clothes<br>Hoosegow: Jail  
>Hophead: Drug addict<br>Sap: Dumb/naive criminal  
>Reefers: Pre-rolled Marijuana cigarettes<br>Cheese it: Stash away quickly  
>The buzz: Once over. Look up and down<br>Two bits: Twenty five cents  
>Box: Bar<br>Corn Liquor: Dark bourbon  
>Puttin' on the Ritz: Wearing fancy dresses and jewelry<br>The Broderick: Thorough beating  
>Chin Music: Punch square in the jaw<p>

Actual 1948 Triple Crown Winner: Citation


	7. Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

I breathed in the stench of sin and knew I was back on familiar turf.

The sun began it's descent, soon to unveil the night. Providing the dark backdrop for the weird and the wicked.

It was too early yet for Liberty's usual crowd to emerge from their hangovers and general avoidance of society. Very few patrons lurked within Club Babylon.

The dive was dead. Entering, was still and quiet. With Justin's artistic hand, he ought've drawn a chalk outline around the place.

Scattered deviants sporadically filled several stools and a few tables of the otherwise vacant room.

I spotted Cody, the young bartender and casually approached. He was quite delicate in his demeanor. I might've even said he was the best view in the joint had Justin not been there to out-look him.

Cody's eyes met mine only briefly, clearly they were most intent to see the blond beside me.

He wasn't the only one.

Admiring glances fluttered around the kid like leaves in the breeze.

The bartender stared the hardest. The longest. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Casually I looked to Justin, his smile was beaming. His blue eyes shined. These two shared a look that told me they wasn't strangers.

An obvious look that had Deb's pink plate special threatening a reappearance. A look that in that moment had me wishin' I was blind.

This Cody was likely an old flame with a new wick. A wick Justin would not be lighting in my presence.

"Justin!" Cody exclaimed, coming around the bar to hug him. "Ah, the one that got away." he added, a touch of sadness in his voice. Still gripping Taylor in his arms he looked to me.

"Hello Detective." he smiled. He then glanced back to Justin, then once again to me. "Oh," he nearly choked "don't tell me that youse twos are..." he suggested, suggestively.

"Oh, no. No." the blond laughed.

I chuckled half heartily as I contemplated why the man's quick denial of such a thing upset me. "We're here on business." I told him.

Cody seemed pleased with my response. I wasn't pleased with his pleasin'.

He lifted a bottle toward me and for once I declined with a wave of my hand. He next handed a bottle to Justin, who looked happy to accept.

"My favorite." he smiled. I convinced myself it was just bartender's intuition.

I watched as the blond struggled to open his bottle of brew, Cody handed him a pocket knife to pop the top.

I promise I did not envision stabbing the flirtatious swindler with it.

Finally open, Justin's lips encircled the bottle's neck. Holy hep cats was it somethin' to see.

I blinked away the sight and focused back on the barkeep. "We're lookin' for a stage singer, goes by the name Shandaleer." I went on.

"Shanda, of course. She's in the dressing room." Cody told us, gesturing toward a heavy red curtain. "It's a real shame what's happened to her." he lightly pursed his lips.

He and Justin locked eyes again. I wasn't likin' the look of these looks.

"Of course I don't have to tell you about queer hatin'..." he started but stopped short at the curt nod and tense expression on the blond's face. It was evident he hadn't wanted the man to continue.

I wondered what they was hidin'. I harbored enough curiosity to kill a bushel of cats.

My intrigue was halted when Justin cleared his throat. "So, lets go find this Shanda." he switched the topic, grabbing my hand and dragging me with him.

Of course the action had been unnecessary. I'd have willingly done a great number of things with his ass, tagging along behind it was the most modest of options.

His pale hand pulled back the curtain, it led to a small hallway with only two doors.

One plain white and very door-like, which I knew from experience led next door to 'The Back Room'. Ah, yes, I'd had many fondled memories in that place.

The other was decorated to the nines with flash and flair. Obviously the show-off of the hall. I gently knocked on the vain entryway.

"Entree'!" called a smooth voice, far too chipper for my taste.

Upon entering the room my senses were engulfed in glitz and glamour. Babylon's own Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy sure did like her glitter.

A slow jazz tune emitted from a record in the corner, the cluttered dressing table housed multiple bulb lights. The reflection of it's mirror smiled at me through newly painted lips.

Shanda met my eyes in the mirror, "Why hello handsomes." she crooned and returned the cap to the bright red cosmetic.

I showed the singer my buzzer which she inspected through a smile. "A Detective? My my, please say you're here to frisk me." she said with as much class as I'd never attended.

I didn't glance at Justin but still I imagined him smiling at the thought of being frisked. I tucked away my badge and took a small step forward.

To my surprise the singer shied away. It wasn't until then that I let my eyes study the dark bruise not yet hidden by make-up. She caught me starin' and almost smiled.

"Just my luck, this ain't a social call. Did that thug send ya here?" she inquired through a huff and added a puff of powder to her face.

"Which thug would that be?" I asked honestly curious. I knew my fair share of palookas.

Rats. The world's full of em'. Scratchin' and clawin', tryin' to get off this sinking ship we call life.

"The artist who painted my face blue." she snorted then softened a bit. "Big fella. Can't think of his name. H somethin'. Not so friendly friend of Gold's." she rambled on all the while guiding us toward the exit.

"I gots ta do a sound check, you boys dance while we're chinnin'!"

The letter 'H' appeared in my mind's eye. The initial I'd read earlier on Ethan's diner note. Though I hadn't much to go on, I kept the letter at the ready.

Soon we were on the dance floor and the band had started to warm up.

"You did promise me a dance Detective." Justin grinned, leaning into me.

It's true, I did.

As Shanda turned to direct the brass on the stage, I directed my hands to Taylor's waist. It was a good fit. For an instant I thought I heard my heart jump in time with the beat on stage.

Lately, I was thinkin' I'd been a tad too thinky with my thoughts.

Shandaleer reappeared beside us, "What kinda man hits a lady?" she accused, appalled. I developed a brief photograph of Old Jack but quickly overexposed it.

"Sweet Ethan tried to interrupt, but the brute was no fan of interruptions." she said then paused a moment to ponder further speech. "Well, I guess that's the crop." she concluded as she did a twirl-like move to the stage.

So Gold had been friendly with the singer. I'll admit this 'Mr. nice-blower' testimony was beggin' for the death penalty. I wanted to kill Ethan's good image with thoughts of him lyin' and cheatin'...and looking not unlike a bridge dweller.

I turned my attention away from the musicians and back to my dance partner.

Justin appeared to get lost in the rhythm.

Good thing too, seein' as how I found myself pullin' him closer.

There we swayed, lost and found.

Just as I had entered a steady groove with Justin's sensuous hips, a familiar and most uninvited guest crashed the party in my pants.

A guest with an ax to grind, uncaring of my desire to grind a blond.

"Mister Kinney! I gots big problems, big problems with you." a voice spoke.

I knew he had big problems. Big problems with me.

I tensed, I turned.

Before me stood Emmy Lou, resident newshound with his nose to the ground; no doubt sniffin' out a scoop.

A while back I'd promised him privileged coverage of a case. A promise I hadn't fulfilled.

Emmett wrote now for a local rag, sendin' gossip on the wire. But he was anxious for validation. To be a real live newshawk writin' for the presses.

Experience had taught me never to trust a reporter, just when you think you can trust em', they turn legit.

The man's tight fitted trousers and loose fitted candor easily displayed his flamboyance.

I reckon that somewhere over Miss Judy's rainbow is where you'd find a nance like Honeycutt.

"Emmett." I tipped my head in his direction, he hadn't noticed. He'd been much too preoccupied noticin' Justin.

Top to toe and everything in between.

His intense approval had me wanting to claim 'finders keepers' on Taylor's top and toes and everything in between.

Emmett gave me a sly smirk and I realized my thoughts was showin'. I regrettably stopped my steps but never let go of his hips.

"This is Justin Taylor." I said choosing not to offer any additional labels. Truth be told, I was unsure as to just what category I wanted to file him.

To my relief, the kid handled his own introduction. However, he started tellin' his tale before I could stop him.

"This is off the record Honeycutt." I interjected.

Emmett rolled his eyes but I could tell he took me serious. Maybe after all this was over, I'd give him an exclusive. I did sorta owe him. Plus I'd heard he'd been on the nut lately. But if he didn't stop undressing Taylor with his eyes, alls he'd be gettin' was a one on one interview with the croaker.

The more Justin talked the more uneasy he became. The detective in me took notice of his nerves and almost found suspicion. My grip on his hips insisted the blond was merely a victim who'd grown tired from repeating his woes. His lengthy yawn confirmed as much.

"Oh, pardon." he told us. I was so unused to such politeness.

"Sweetie, you must be exhausted." The reporter fawned over him like a movie star in Hollywood. Though certainly he looked the part, his slightly pink cheeks maintained his modesty.

I glanced at my pocket watch and knew the sun had set. Though inside the sunshine was still glowing, albeit dimmed by fatigue.

I removed my hands from the sun's hot waist and told him I thought it best to call it an evening.

The type of words I'd wished to call the night would've likely offended it. Prompting a slap from the man in the moon himself, and justly labeled a cad.

I kept my words to myself.

Justin shook Emmett's hand and waved to Shanda who had by now begun belting a ballad. When we reached the bar, we noticed Daphne across the room. She blew us a kiss, which Justin caught.

Cody escorted us to the door, a touch too touchy on Taylor for my taste.

I allowed the blond to exit ahead of me when, to my surprise, Cody hadn't let go of our farewell handshake. His eyes tried to say something I just couldn't hear.

It had only become clear once I was outside and felt the small slip of paper in my palm.

Continuing to let Justin walk ahead, I read it:

_I gots something to tell ya about Justin. Might be important to your case. Please meet me in the morning at 8 a.m at the address below._ _Whatever you do, don't let Justin know._

My thoughts was racing, doing burnouts in my mind. It hurt my head.

I recalled the secret stares between Cody and the kid and I had to admit, I wasn't fond of the wonder or the worry they delivered.

I hadn't needed detective skills to detect that Cody and Justin shared a past.

As I got to the driver's side door, Justin was already in the car. Quickly I tucked the note away but unfortunately was unable to do the same with my confusion.

I shook my head to at least move it from it's front row seat in my brain.

Inserting the key into the ignition, I caught sight of lightning in the distance. They wasn't callin' for rain so I guessed it from the heat.

Though beneath the sky inside my car, a storm was definitely brewin'.

This kid was blowing my mind and it weren't no gentle breeze. A wind gusty enough to belong in Chicago.

Hurricane Taylor had hit the Pitts. Hit it hard.

If only that bastard weatherman had issued an advisory. I was ill prepared.

With a heavy sigh and curious soul, I put the Jeepster into drive, and drove.

* * *

><p>BrutePalookas- Rough guys  
>Swindler-Shady Character<br>Chinnin'-Talking  
>That's the crop-That's the whole story<br>Newshawk-Reporter  
>Scoop-Story<br>Gossip on the wire-Spreading gossip  
>Presses-Newspaper<br>Nance-Feminine man  
>Be on the nut-Broke, Low on cash<br>Croaker-Doctor

"Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one's all right, he turns legit."-Asphalt Jungle (1950)


	8. Is You Is Or Is You Ain't?

The moon lit the night, the lamps lit the street and a highly suspicious glow lit Taylor's living room.

We shared a quick glance that confirmed my recollection...we hadn't lit a light when we'd left.

As Justin un-clicked his seat belt, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. Squinting in the dark I honed in on the fast paced sprint of the man. The possible intruder, cloaked in the night.

Justin paused midway of exiting the car. "Stay here." I instructed and quickly introduced my feet to pavement.

Too soon I regretted my recent lackadaisical gym regime. Certainly had I spent my usual hours, my breath would've hung around a little longer.

Though I struggled to catch it, I did manage to catch the shadow. My fingers clamped onto his shoulder and he let out a startled cry.

I turned the perp to face me. I stared into a face I didn't know. My unfamiliarity reflected in this kid's features.

His own breath seemed to have hightailed it outta his throat.

Our panting puffed into the wind.

"Whaddya runnin' from?" I asked.

"I, uh, nothing, I wasn't." he streamed his fragments.

"Pick one of them words kid and give me a sentence." I demanded.

He was a grifter, a scruffy topped clout. No doubt lit or snowed as his eyes shined even in darkness.

"I'm Hunter Montgomery S-sir." he stuttered. "I was anxious to visit Daphne, Savvy? And I seen this big fella stumbling round your porch." he looked to Justin who had walked up beside me. "I knew youse wasn't home, made him for a burglar. He gave chase but," he sent me what could only be described as a glare, "you stopped me. He got away."

I eyed this Hunter intently, not sure I was buying what he was sellin'. Was this fact or just another lie circling the drain? It was time to flush out the truth.

Hunter. H.

Admittedly the man seemed too dimwitted to be guilty. I still deposited him into the suspect bank to collect interest.

It wasn't until Montgomery wiggled out from under my grip that I noticed I still gripped him. He made a face and attempted to soothe his likely throbbing arm.

"Jeez Mister who the hell are ya anyway? Some sort of sissy mobster? Christ!" he hissed and winced.

The prospect of such an organization amused me. The queer mafia. Surely then it'd be dubbed really organized crime. Where you slept with the gourmet fishies lightly drizzled in bearnaise; and wore designer cement shoes.

"Yes." I told him with no hint of humor. "In fact, I'm certain there's a queer getting whacked off as we speak."

Hunter gulped. Justin laughed. I offered something like a smile. "Relax kid." I said with a heavy swat to his back.

He seemed to ease as we made our way back to Justin's porch. I told him Miss Daphne was still at work then paid very little attention to him.

In turn, I studied the front door which definitely showed signs of forced entry. With a gentle gesture I insisted that Justin and Hunter remain where they stood, while I entered the house.

Though barely lighted, I conducted a swift sweep of the place. I could tell there was nobody there. Not. One. Body.

However, the joint was ransacked. As disheveled as I'd like to see Taylor's sheets and hair in the morning. Contents of every drawer had been haphazardly tossed about.

Our nobody had definitely been somebody searchin' for somethin'.

Most likely money. You know what that is. The green stuff you never have enough of.

I didn't know if anything was missin in this knock-over. It wasn't my stuff.

I called out for Justin to join me, Hunter entered tight on his heels.

"Take a bounce." I told him. He ignored me.

Justin gasped a little then proceeded to frivolously gather the dispersed belongings. I watched his head move to take in the view.

"Anything missing? Do you have a safe? Ethan have any hidden funds?" He looked at me sadly. I wanted to kick myself for not recalling the two million bucks Gold had hidden. But hell, I never claimed to be Mr. Sensitivity.

Taylor shook his head and spoke softly. "No, It doesn't appear anything's missing..." he paused mid-sentence and hastily went toward the coffee table.

His hands scooped up somethin' I couldn't see. I could however see his expression rapidly change.

The intruder may not have stolen the kid's 'rainy day money' but it was definitely raining. About to pour. Angry clouds rolled in the sky of his eyes.

I admit I got a bit excited at the sight of him mad. Being hot under the collar would surely make him hotter under me.

Speakin' of storms, another clap of my conscience thundered through me. The blond was a job regardless of the looks he was shootin' me.

Wordlessly he handed me the offending paper. A photograph. Ethan and yet another man I didn't know.

Observing their surroundings, I learned they was in a concert hall in Harrisburg.

I also observed, as had Justin, that Mr. Gold and Mr. X were enjoying more than the music.

My further predictions of adultery were reignin' true. I felt a smidgen of sympathy for the blond. It appeared he didn't really know the man as well as he'd thought.

I still hadn't known either of them. Could this mystery man be the elusive H?

"Nope." my inner voice answered my thought. "Not the fella I seen here."

It turned out my 'inner voice' belonged to a still here, very near, Hunter Montgomery as he leaned over my shoulder to sneak a peek at the snapshot.

Albeit his recollection was helpful, his presence was still annoying. "Thought I told you to scram." I stated.

"Yeah yeah." he muttered and casually made his way to the door. "Have a nice night." he said to me.

"Don't tell me what to do." I retorted.

With the nosy neighbor lover outta my hair, I ran my fingers through it and sighed.

I contemplated the picture in my hands. Maybe the musician's pal here had found out he was shackin' up with Justin. Maybe he was mad. Maybe even mad enough to send someone to let the blond know about his tryst.

As it appeared this picture was left quite intentionally in plain sight. Aside from this incriminating photo, it was pretty much a clean sneak. I was startin' to think Gold bolted outta guilt.

Based on earlier demonstrations I'd expected Justin's face to be streaked with tears. My expectations failed.

His very dry face displayed the look of a lover scorned. A look lookin' to retaliate. Just call me Mr. Retaliation.

No. Don't.

Taylor wasn't thinkin' rationally, I had a professional obligation. An obligation that was steadily becoming blurred with the growing seduction in Justin's eyes and my own pants.

I ran through all of the reasons it was a bad idea, while he ran his finger across my jaw.

"I'm afraid Detective." he practically purred.

I was afraid too, but not of the prowler's return.

I inhaled my lust and exhaled rationale.

I didn't know who had been there or what they'd been wanting. Taylor could get mixed up with a swindler, a two-bit thug, or worse...me.

This kid's lock was broken, certainly he needed someone to stand watch while he slept. Someone to protect him. Someone to imagine all the delicious things he could do with his tongue. Okay, perhaps that last one was only for me.

"So?" that enchanting voice pulled me from delicious thing number two.

"So?" I parroted like I had forgotten what words were or how they worked.

"Staying..." he whispered, and fuck me if it didn't send a shiver to my spine. "Is you is? Or is you ain't?" he rasped.

Before my mouth could give it's answer, my suddenly seated body provided it's own.

Apparently, 'I is'.

* * *

><p>Grifter- Con Artist<br>Clout-Suspicious Character  
>Lit-Drunk<br>Snowed-Under influence of drugs  
>Take a bounce-Get Out<br>Clean Sneak-Leaving no clues behind a crime scene

*Queer Mafia reference adapted from 'Will & Grace.'

"Money. You know what that is, the green stuff you never have enough of."- (1945) Detour


	9. Some Enchanted Evening

I kept my hands busy with securing the door, afraid of where they'd be if I didn't.

The flirtatious hands of Mr. Taylor kept busy pouring us drinks. My heated bits sure could've used the hooch.

I accepted the expensive glass slightly nervous. My frantic fingers fumbled to hold it. The ice cubes shook like a boytoy's back side on stage at the backroom.

My apparent discomfort seemed to have amused the evening's blond host.

When he smiled over the rim of his glass it forced me to step back.

An awkward chuckle escaped my mouth without permission. A sound that only warranted that damn smile to widen.

Next, Justin prompted a staring contest. I lost. I'd gotten dust in my eye I was sure of it.

"How's about some tunes?" he offered in a voice that clearly hid the phrase 'to set the mood'.

I only managed to nod before I proceeded to down the rest of my whiskey in one go. It burned on the way down, only igniting my hots for the boy.

"Do ya like Sinatra?" his voice called out more musical than any record.

I shrugged, "Sure, why not? Franks never done nothin' to me."

Old blue eyes himself had some competition. And they was currently, no doubt, undressing me.

The unfamiliar feeling of shyness overwhelmed me. I didn't try to understand it's arrival.

Brian Kinney didn't give a shit. Right? Right.

As a rule I didn't do nervous. As a rule I didn't get mixed up with clients. As a rule I didn't do blonds.

This particular fair haired fox was challengin' me to be defiant. After all, rules were meant to be broken.

I became mesmerized watching the purposeful motion of his hips and the stride of his get away sticks as he walked toward me.

For a second I believed my eyes would never again close, that this hypnotic swivel would be all I'd ever view.

Eventually confident I'd still see it behind closed eyes, I blinked.

A lot of my pieces grew anxious at his approach. My mind, though barely, still maintained it's objection.

If bad ideas was an Olympic event this would take the gold medal.

Though the closer Justin became, the quicker I bargained myself down to accepting silver...bronze.

By the time he took my hands firmly into his, I would've been content with a participation trophy.

His mitts were warm, resembling my personal increase in body temperature. They were smaller than mine, delicate.

I envisioned those hands gently applying creative strokes to canvas.

As I observed the several paintings on the walls I felt an unwarranted sense of pride.

Clearly the man was good with his hands.

A theory I was close to testing out.

I always tried not to mix business with pleasure. Right now, pleasure was my business and I was ready to get to work.

He 'd caught my gaze again with another penetrating stare.

All of my useful words took a holiday.

I opened my mouth only to promptly shut it when no such words showed themselves.

"Thank you again for staying." he said, just inches from me. "Thank you for everything really, I look up to you Detective." he concluded.

"Well, I am a lot taller than you." I smiled, trying like the dickens to mask my 'whatever-the-fuck' I was feeling.

It was hard to fit small talk into such a big pause, though I tried. My voice began to ramble questions ahead of my brain. I'd made a note to call a conference soon for both my heads to collaborate.

In a voice I hardly recognized, I uttered bullshit inquires about Justin's contentment with livin' in the burbs, his favorite song, and I'm fairly sure something involving laundry detergent...or tupperware, I couldn't be certain.

With each creeping centimeter of Taylor's delicious fingertips, I became disoriented, unfocused.

We talked a little about Ethan and a little more about nothing. Just as soon as I asked about Cody and what he'd meant about Justin understandin' queer hatin', he lost his smile.

He'd found it again quickly.

He removed the drink from my hand and set it on the coffee table. He replaced my empty palm with his locked fingers that was instantly within mine.

My eyes caught the movement the same time as my digits. I met his burning stare and surprised myself with my sudden inability to think.

A second, or forever later, I inhaled sharply.

What was I doin'? What was he doin'?

Ethan Gold, Boyfriend, cheater or not, was still a case.

Then and there I decided on a new rule: No blond kissin' while his mister was missin'.

"Last time I looked you had a boyfriend." I managed to say.

Justin dusted my words away with his feathery lashes. "Maybe next time you look, I won't."

I stood in a bit of a trance. Bewitched, hot and bothered, and bewildered.

The music in the air, the moonlight shining in through the picturesque picture window, and Justin, magical in his own right. This was some enchanted evening. Fairytales. Another thing, as a rule, I didn't do.

"I tell ya I'm no good for ya Sunshine." I barely managed to insist. I confess it was damn near impossible to insist anything of purpose with Justin's mouth just a whisper's width away.

"You can't be all bad." he responded. Evidently having no trouble with his 'insisting feature'.

"I come the closest." I stated simply.

It was true. In fact, I had several pieces of me that reigned the baddest.

Justin sent a light chuckle into the air we was sharin'. His heated breath puffed past my lips. I yearned to taste it.

The kid shook his head gingerly allowing a stray strand of blond to fall to his face. My insides fell a little with it. I felt my outside rise in spite of all this fallin'.

Those mischievous sapphires glistened, intently coercing me into another round of 'Who can stare the longest without blinking.'

I blinked.

It really was not my game.

The determined blue of pretty boy blond was Still. Steady. Starin'. Justin was a much better player.

I swallowed what I could only guess were nerves and tried to relax.

Justin on the other hand, (possibly the very same currently cupping the small of my back) seemed entirely at ease.

It weren't no secret I was the reason he took another step closer. Too close.

My body and mind gave up protesting when Justin's fingers danced along the back of my neck, then his waltzin' fingertips kissed my cheeks. My lips.

Once again he'd broken into the windows of my eyes. He'd firmly stolen my look of 'want' and placed it onto his own face.

Suddenly, unprepared, I saw as much sweltering passion as I'd felt staring directly back at me.

"I can see right through you Kinney." he announced with confidence.

"Then you're missin' a lot." I confirmed.

Not being able to bear being another millimeter from this kid's mouth, I none too gently grabbed the nape of his neck and pressed my forehead to his.

An audible gasp escaped from Taylor's lips. I told myself it was the sound of me taking his breath away.

I struggled to remind myself of my previously placed 'no kissin' rule, when I felt Justin blatantly disregard said rule.

His lips were lethal. Soft weapons designed to kill me where I stood.

I wasn't so sure of their preferred method of destruction.

Perhaps this pout had plans to invoke a craving frenzy, as his taste was unlike anything my tongue had touched. Surely it would be the death of any man, never able to get enough.

Perhaps he'd planned sendin' me into delirium, unyielding madness with the dizziness in my brain. My thoughts was certainly blurring. Uppin' my odds of a stint in the loony bin.

Justin's sweet kiss became increasingly frantic, deeper... hotter.

Yes, I'd decided, these lips were without a doubt planning to attack with heat, engulf me in flames.

To melt him into me.

Mixing sanity and everything I didn't believe in, into a puddle of drowned inhibitions and molten lust.

My tongue was tellin' Justin's everything I didn't want it to say.

Things like you're upset, Ethan's a cheater, Let's be cheaters too.

But, I was workin'.

Someone had broken into the house. For all I knew it was the mystery mistress...ter; just as soon as it could've been a button-man. Cold blooded and after Sunshine, uh, Justin, Mr. Taylor.

That pesky thing called a conscience butted into my business.

It started wrestling with the rest of my body. Specifically my tongue that was in a wrestling match of it's own with the most delicious opponent it's ever faced. Though I resisted, it'd been in vain.

My mind brought me back to reality. Ruthlessly pulling me from the dream of Justin's kiss.

I couldn't allow myself to let my guard down. For a reason still unknown to me, I was worried about the kid.

No harm would come to him on my watch. A watch that was sure to be tickin' as fast as my heart rate; but surely not watchin' this blond as intently as my eyes.

Grudgingly, I vacated the welcoming warmth of his whiskey tinged mouth.

His lips protested but a moment before they designed a sloppy smile. He slurred a sentence of unintelligible substance before he yawned and stumbled a bit.

Light on his feet but the perfect weight in my arms, I lifted his body.

Instantly his slender arm encircled my neck, causing my own legs to wield a wee wobble.

I worried my thumping heart would soon shake loose my grip on him. The room momentarily went outta focus. I blinked but hastily reopened my eyes when Justin's portrait hung on the walls of my lids.

Several days ago I knew everything I needed to know about life. The world.

I was Brian Kinney, Private Dick. Selfish cynic. I cared very little about anything except my own pleasure.

So why now was I givin' away my precious cares to this blond?

With the warmth of the sun heating both my arms and below, it was the first time I'd never known nothin' about anything.

I steadied myself and pushed his bedroom door open with my foot. Justin stirred a little but didn't otherwise notice.

Seeing the bed, I instinctively allowed a plethora of playtime pictures to develop in my imagination. Hopin' they'd hold me over til' I could do more than hold the kid.

As gently as I'd ever done anything, I placed him onto the mattress. As quietly as I could, I made my way back to the couch.

Not nearly as cozy as the bed, but certainly...safer.

I removed my shoes and killed the lights. I found a small throw blanket on the back of the sofa. I took a second to inhale the fabric. It held Justin's scent wrapped in it's fibers. Much like the shine of his hair and the blue of his eyes currently intertwined in my head.

I spent a few minutes staring blankly at the ceiling, begging any coherent thought to come back to my mind. A voice as smooth as honey disturbed my empty pleading.

"Detective?" Justin whispered from the archway of the living room. I removed my eyes from the ceiling and put em' on him.

Several words tickled my throat but none managed to make it out into the night. Instead, I just cleared my throat.

Apparently, the inability to form words was a side effect from the inability to form thoughts.

More words struggled inside me with each step his socked feet padded toward me.

What did he want? It seemed his words was malfunctioning too; seein' as he just stood there. Quiet. Starin'.

Now, I don't know if it was cause' I was still stupid but something told me what he wanted. Wordlessly, I lifted my arm and the flimsy blanket, inviting him to lay with me on the couch.

As he settled his body down against mine, I worried this mental defect was gonna be fatal. Surely, Justin Taylor would be the death of me.

Ah what the hell, as long as I was doin' fairytales tonight, I might as well do 'cuddle' too.

I told myself this insane behavior was cause' I was soberin' up. That wouldn't happen again.

I pulled him a little tighter. Hey, it was chilly. Trust me when I tell ya, I had enough heat in my pants to melt the sun.

I listened to his rhythmic breathing and soothed myself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Hootch-Hard liquor<br>Mitts-Hands  
>Button-man-Professional Killer<br>Get away sticks-Legs

"She can't be all bad, no one is ..."Well, she comes the closest ..." Out of the Past (1947)

"The last time I looked you had a husband" ..."Maybe the next time you look I won't." Clash By Night


	10. Round Midnight

As is the case with most fairytales, this one ended 'round midnight.

An appropriately named Grandfather clock chimed out; likely loud enough to wake my own Granddad from the big sleep. It sent tremors across the hardwood floors and startled the night.

Though those quakes paled in comparison to the ones in my gut at the sound of the horn ringin'. A phone call at this hour was either one of two things.

A good time or bad news.

Looking around, even in the dark I knew this quaint home hadn't belonged to a kid that received the first. Or made them, much to my dismay.

All of my instincts, Cop and other wise wasn't likin' the sound of that ring. Most of all for a reason other than the unsettling information it likely held. The call had awoken Justin.

Not that I didn't enjoy him as such.

I might say it pleased me to see those baby blue eyes once again.

I might say it excited me.

Or I might not. I can't be trusted to follow a script.

On account that my senses had been on high alert, I'd become fully awake by the second ring. It took Justin until the fourth to completely identify the intrusion to his dream.

A dream I admit, that I'd wondered about. More specifically, I wondered if it'd contained me. A brief moment of ridiculous intrigue. I was tired. Some may argue a tad delirious. I may not argue different.

The removal of the kid's warmth as he scurried to answer the phone, had brought a centimeter of crazy to my brain.

I left that crazy on the couch as I stood and neared in to eavesdrop on the call.

"Ethan, slow down. Where are you?" Justin urgently uttered into the phone.

He caught my eyes with his, they looked worried, confused and sexy. But it was no time for those thoughts.

It looked like the elusive horn blower was safe and sound and reclaiming the blond's attention. I watched as he fumbled for a pen and the words his trembling hands scribbled on the margin of a newspaper.

Looks like my fairytale was already yesterday's news.

'Liberty motel. Come alone.'

Well, that was yet another instruction I could add to my impressive list of 'Not going to follow'. As Carl could tell ya, I was shit at following orders.

Like hell this kid'd be going to that rat hole without me.

Justin hung up the receiver and wordlessly went to put on his shoes. I on the other hand used a lot of words while I slipped on mine.

I needed to know everything I needed to know. I wanted to know everything I didn't.

"Brian, I don't know exactly." he said entirely too calm for my impatience. "He just said he was sorry and that he'd explain everything when I get to the motel...alone." he added, all cute, like he could stop me from going along.

Quickly, he buckled under the pressure of my stare. "Right." he almost smiled, "I suppose you're driving?" he dangled my keys he'd picked up from the coffee table.

I grabbed them and his fingers along with em'.

I stood silently savoring the feel for a moment...before the book bind of my fairytale fully came to a close.

Driving through a sudden downpour of rain and anxiety, Justin and I stayed mostly silent on the way to the creep joint.

Undoubtedly both our heads were full of questions. I put the car in park, unsure as to whether or not I still wanted answers to them.

A neon sign with a bulb as broken as the motel's foundation, flickered a feverish frenzied glow on the night.

The spastic lights appeared to be in alliance with the raindrops to set the scene for reality.

Fairytale officially over.

My wet loafers sloshed and seemed to find every puddle as we walked toward the front desk.

Justin's shoes remained more or less dry.

I was okay with that, as long as the now light rain continued to dampen his hair to his incredible face. Kept drizzling, like it did, down every delicate feature.

My groin and I agreed it was a view worth at least the price of two soaked, squishy shoes.

The first thing I'd noticed about the desk clerk was that he was not my type.

In fact, I'd had a hard time believin' he'd been anyone's.

His dim brown hair clung to his face like mud. His features seemed dis-proportioned to his mis-proportioned head. I'd bet his eyes were equally as uninspiring had they been opened.

The second thing I'd noticed about the desk clerk, was that he was asleep.

Sharing his unenthusiastic schedule was a fleabag, a mongrel, a mutt. Or what you bleeding hearts would call... a dog.

A messy mop of matted yellow fur; who was either deep in dream or long dead.

I suspected I'd have to get real close to check for signs of breath, I'd decided against it. The plan was instead carried out by a different mop of yellow hair, Justin's.

"Hey there fella," he cooed, bending down to pet the beast's head.

I tried to avoid noticing his pants' sudden tight fit to his bending form. Of course by instructing myself not to look, my eyes adhered to his ass. Like I said, I was shit at following orders.

"Hinky." Justin read the dog's tag aloud. It dangled on a red collar as tattered as his owner's appearance.

Ol' Hinky moved exactly once.

That was to barely lift his head and I'd swear, that damned mutt smiled. Which made sense. Under Justin's touch it seemed impossible not to.

The blond smiled too.

Apparently, he liked all things hinky. We almost had that in common, I, having been a man who liked all things kinky.

Justin ruffled the scruffy, presumably paralyzed pooch once more before he stood again beside me.

I tapped the half rusted bell on the desk, the drooling clerk sprung awake. I raised an eyebrow as I watched him scramble to appear professional.

"Cute dog." I said by way of 'hello you fumbling idiot.' "Does he do any other tricks, besides not moving?"

Is it Besides? Beside? I can never remember.

Anyway, that's what I'd said.

"Can I help you?" That's what he'd said.

'Richard.' That's what his tag said.

Justin hadn't said anything.

Neither had Hinky.

"We're lookin' for a fella we think you gots him here." Justin said. "Ethan Gold." he spoke impatiently.

"Gold." The clerk repeated.

It'd have been the perfect time to flip through his records to search, but somethin' told me Richie kept no such documents.

"Yeah, he's here." he confirmed simply.

I hadn't liked the thought of Ethan being so memorable.

"Been here two days. Room fourteen..." he explained.

Justin had not fancied waiting for the rest. Before I could stop him, the kid took off in his own direction. Most likely the direction of room fourteen.

I wanted to follow, but I'd decided to let Ol' Dick finish his sentence.

"...he had no luggage, came in a hack, paid cash." The clerk met my eyes and leaned closer, Hinky didn't budge.

He whispered, (The man, not the mutt.) "I bet this Gold's in hot water right? Yeah," he theorized practically to himself, "he did seem real skiddish like. Never once left his room. Seen that do not disturb sign for days. Even denied maid service." he ended with what seemed to be the most informative piece of information to Richard.

Though I didn't see how not using a maid could incriminate a guy. I looked around; with all the flim-flam around here, it seemed the whole motel had been denying such a service since construction.

Seemed the perfect abode for Gay cats, Clouts and...Jazz musicians.

The man behind the desk rambled on, I tuned him out. I wanted to know just who Gold was hidin' from.

"Stay." I ordered Hinky.

Walking back outside, I heard a cry from a voice I liked and a name I didn't. "Ethan!" Justin had yelled out.

I picked up the pace and burst into the slightly ajar door of room number fourteen.

Stretched before me was a scene my eyes rushed to evaluate.

The facts were these:

1. The room held the bleeding, dead body of one Ethan Gold.

2. Justin's gripping hand held a dripping chiv. Presumably with the blood of the body listed above.

3. Justin's face held a look somewhere between shock, and really, really guilty.

* * *

><p>Horn- Telephone<br>Creep joint- Sleazy motel  
>Hack- Taxi cab<br>Hot water- Big trouble  
>Flim-flam- Shady behavior<br>Gay cats- Hustler  
>Clouts- PickpocketPetty thief  
>Chiv- Knife<p> 


	11. Into Each Life, Some Rain Must Fall

The sirens of the meat-wagon crept up on me.

It seemed to me I had just called Carl and already the noise and the chaos that accompanied it, approached.

I'd only told the man the basics...Room fourteen. Stiff. No pulse.

With my worries and wonders so intermingled, I didn't add too much about Justin. I'd said Ethan was like this (this being dead) when I got here.

Not wanting to be truthful.

Not wanting to lie.

When I'd suggested to Justin that he drop the knife, he had. He hadn't otherwise moved. He stood like a statue, only giving in to blink.

The metal chiv fell to the floor with a softened thud. Amplified by the still of the moment.

Briefly, I examined the knife. Looked at it. When I didn't want to anymore, I didn't.

I split my gaze between Justin's swimming eyes, the dead man at my feet, and the palms of my hands as I slid them down my face.

My eyes settled on watching the small pool of blood as it spilled slowly onto the ugliest carpet I'd ever seen.

'What happened?' I wanted to ask Ethan. I didn't of course. That'd be silly.

Dead men told no tales, but they sure could keep a secret.

For a minute or two after I'd placed the call, I stood dumbly, silent. Words sure took their sweet time coming to my mouth. Eventually, I spoke.

"Justin?" the word a whisper. One sentence turned into two, "What's going on?"

For the first time since I walked into this mess, the kid truly met my eyes. His shimmered with un-shed tears. They glistened in the light of the cheap lamp on the broken table.

For a flop house, the room was cozy.

If cozy meant cramped, run down and dirtier than most of my thoughts.

Before I could register his movement the kid was placing himself against me.

Those tears kept their promise, spilling at last.

"I didn't." he practically wailed into my shirt. His voice slightly muffled. "I know how it seems, looks the worst. I didn't I tell ya."

I don't know why but I wanted to believe him.

At least, I wanted to want to.

The investigator in me would've called this case open and shut. That part of me knew indeed, how it seemed. Knew it looked the worst.

There was another part however (probably the fairytale reader) that would swear Justin was no hatchetman.

Instinctively I wrapped my arms around him. Ethan hadn't seemed to mind.

I heard the slamming of several car doors as I wondered, 'Could anyone this warm be a cold blooded killer?'

If Justin was tellin' the truth, then it begged the question:

'Who could've possibly sneaked unnoticed past Hinky the watch dog; with all his astute watchfulness?'

Answer: Absolutely Everyone.

The attendance of our lil' rendezvous increased by four.

The coroner, Carl, one unknown officer and one 'I wish was unknown' officer, Jimmy Stills.

My old pain in the ass and Carl's new partner.

I hated the guy.

Now I don't have to explain my feelings to you, But I will.

'What was wrong with Jimmy Stills you ask?'

Nothin'.

Nothin' an exorcism couldn't fix.

The man was an asshole.

Angry. Arrogant. Annoying.

And those are just the A's.

On second thought, there's no time for this. I got a murder to solve.

"Brian." Carl nodded, taking a place in front of me. Jimmy right beside him. "Kinney." he'd said with false professionalism.

"Carl." I nodded in return.

I met Jimmy's eyes, "Stills." I gave him sort of an 'I'm better than you smile'...'cause I was better than him.

"Who's the stiff? Who killed him? When?" Stills barked, stepping closer to me.

I didn't budge while he was givin' me the third, all hotsy-totsy. "Isn't it _your_ job to answer those questions?" I replied.

Stills turned madder than usual, I smiled.

He growled. "Do you know who I am?"

"Don't you know who you are?" I asked, doing my best to sound worried.

It was then Carl gently pulled the man back, reclaiming his spot as high-pillow around here. "Could you boys play nice?"

"I could, but I don't care, so I won't." I told him.

Carl shook his head and I think he almost smiled for a second.

He turned his serious switch back on. "What the hell happened?" he asked me.

I barley shrugged, but years of working cases together, he could tell I didn't know.

Without a word he shifted his eyes and his question to Justin, who shifted his feet.

The kid looked at me, blue searched for words. When he'd found none, he cleared his throat and answered Carl's waiting expression.

"Ethan called," he began, but I already knew this part. Let's fast forward to the stuff I hadn't witnessed.

"...the knife was there in his gut, he was really bleedin' but breathin'. He made eye contact with me, he looked," Justin paused, we waited. "happy to see me." he finished.

"Did he say anything?" Carl pressed. He went easier than I knew him capable. He wasn't puttin' the screws to him as much as I'd figured.

So, the musician had already been stabbed and was almost cold. We had to have just missed the killer...

...or so the kid'd said.

He'd also said this, "There was lots of blood, he was chokin', cryin'." Justin explained, wincing a little at the memory only he had viewed. "I think he wanted to tell me somethin'. I bent down but..." he shook his blond hair.

Hot tears streamed down his distraught face. I resisted a strong urge to wipe them away.

After all, guilty men had little reason to smile while being copped.

"I tried to pull the blade out, to help." Justin added before I could stop him.

Carl's eyebrows rose. I read his mind. 'Settin' the scene. An early excuse for the fingerprints they was sure to be findin'.

That's how Cops thought. Luckily, I weren't one no more. I still wanted to believe him.

"I see." Carl spoke slowly, surely seeing more than he oughta.

I watched as he handed Justin a business card. "In case you remember anything else." he said by obligation. "I gotta feeling we'll be speaking again Mr. Taylor." he added, with his infamous 'don't leave town' glare.

Somehow I felt nervous enough for both myself and the kid.

Which was crazy.

We hadn't done anything wrong.

I hadn't.

It was a nice thought to think Justin hadn't either. A nice thought, but not necessarily true.

I gently placed my hand on the man's shoulder, "He's gotten your statement, we should get ya home." I told him and he nodded lightly.

I opened the door peering out into the night. Justin and the sky were crying again. Into each life, some rain must fall.

I pulled my hat tight to my head and used a newspaper on the table to hold over Justin's.

We stepped outside, my mind compartmentalizing the past few days.

The truth sat in fragments laid out before me. Like puzzle pieces I couldn't force together no matter which way I turned em'.

Even though puzzle makin' was a popular rainy day activity, I hadn't wanted any part of it.

Maybe I was just yellow, afraid of seein' the big picture it revealed.

When we reached the car, I swiped all of the pieces back into their box.

I drove a sniffling Justin home in awkward silence.

* * *

><p>Meat Wagon- Ambulance<br>Hotsy-Totsy- Obnoxious, Vain  
>High Pillow- Person in Charge<br>Put the screws to/Give the third- Get tough with the questions  
>Copped- Questioned by police<p> 


	12. That Lucky Old Sun

The sun woke up before I had.

It appeared well rested as it's vibrant shine poured into my dreams. I squinted for a second, before I could fully open my tired eyes. Once they could see, it'd taken them a bit to observe and recall my surroundings.

I was at Justin's place. More specifically, I was in his bed.

Last night's memories awakened one by one, filling the blank evening in my head.

After we'd left the motel, I'd brought the kid straight home.

Needless to say (but I'll say it still) Justin had become an absolute wreck.

With all the cryin', worryin' and his newly professed loneliness; I couldn't bring myself to leave him.

So, me and myself had stayed with the wreckage.

I had decided to sleep on the sofa again, though, as it turns out, I'm not a determined fella. One soft plead from the broken blond and I was where I am now, soaking up sun on his mattress.

Now, don't be so quick to assume things, I am, after all a professional. And he could, after all be the world's most...delicious criminal. 'Wait, what was I saying? Right, professional.'

Ya see, I had every intention on bunkin' on that couch. But all those emotions and Justin's insistence that he'd 'feel safe and unafraid' with me beside him, had some surprisingly powerful effects. I'd conceded and laid down.

Playin' the role of night watchman and watch him I did.

Ignoring all rules of rationale and possibility, the kid somehow looked even more perfect asleep. Looked, gentle, maybe even innocent. His light snores and soft groans as he'd turned in his dreams made me a little hot. Not to mention the way his pajamas kept riding off his tummy when he'd turned.

I'd wanted to pull him to me, crush our bodies together. I didn't.

No, after a moment of excruciating discipline, I'd turned away from Justin. Careful to stay on my assigned side of the bed.

That's how we'd slept. Together, apart.

So, now you're all caught up. I'd awakened where I'd fallen asleep. Which brings us to now, with the sun shining it's pesky perkiness in my eyes.

I yawned and ran my stretched arm out across the sheet. It was cool and void of Justin.

The clock told me it was seven twenty-two a.m., I believed it.

'Where was Justin this early?' I wondered, though only briefly before I closed my eyes, yawned and stood. Most probably the kid was just in the shower or the kitchen.

Only, he wasn't. He wasn't in no other rooms either.

I'd realized by seven twenty-five that I was alone. All by myself.

I walked toward the door, all the while convincing myself that Justin had only taken a walk, or maybe gone to Daphne's. Exploring the house, everything looked like it had the last time I'd seen it. Except when I got to the door there was a note stuck to it.

'Don't go anywhere Detective. Be back in a bit.'

I turned it over. It was blank, like my mind. 'That's it?' He hadn't said where he'd gone.

"Don't go anywhere." I repeated aloud, startling the quiet with my voice.

I sat in the chair and began to pull on my shoes. I was shit at following orders.

I pulled on my flogger and retrieved Cody's message from the pocket. I held the small paper and read the address.

To say it was the worst neighborhood in the Pitts...would be true.

The bartender was expectin' me at eight. I was expectin' him to help me sort things out. The man had said he'd wanted to dib Justin's details. I'd figured it was time to let him.

I pulled the car on to the street that held Cody's building. I noticed a gatherin' of drugstore cowboys. The art vandal hooligans looked extra ornery today.

The last thing I'd needed was ugly, un-nice words painted in pretty, nice letters on the side of my Jeepster.

Once I parked on the corner I relaxed a little and turned off the car. Stepping out onto the street, I checked Cody's address again. With a quick look at the buildings, I'd found it.

I hurriedly scanned the apartment numbers and names on the intercom by the entrance. Bell, Cody. 2B.

I pushed the button. It buzzed, I spoke. No answer

Push. Buzz. No answer. Rinse and Repeat.

I'd become a little anxious when the kid didn't open the door. He could've been zonked out but I had a funny feelin' Cody wasn't currently countin' sheep.

I took a step back and peered up at the whole building. "Cody!" I yelled out, hopin' he'd heard me through whichever window was his. I called out twice more.

His neighbors weren't so impressed with my early morning rooster impression.

Some people answered me alright.

None of em' was Cody.

None of em' was polite.

I was stuck now with two decisions:

A) Should I go back to find Justin.

B) Should I find another way into the apartment.

I picked B. 'Damn it, I really preferred A. Ah, no regrets.'

Suddenly, unexpectedly, 'Plan B' was served to me on a silver platter...of sorts.

My help had arrived in a pair of silver slacks. Emmett Honeycutt.

"What's the story Drunkin' Whorey?" the nosey nelly sang all upbeat and cheerful...like the sun.

A sun that was actually puttin' my jitters at ease. For I was sure Justin was smiling wherever the hell he was. If he wasn't, certainly his predecessor wouldn'ta been so blinding. Yeah, I had an inkling it was warming and caressing that smooth, milky face right now. That lucky old Sun.

I weren't no kind of a morning man before that smile came into my life. Beggin' me to wake up and enjoy it

Now look at me, workin' before the crack of noon...sober.

Albeit when it came to Taylor, that sunshine did very little to stop me wantin' to spend all day in bed.

I held the image of him for a tick before I released it. It fluttered away in the air, it passed unnoticed by Emmett's head.

"Whaddya doin' here Kinney?" he asked me.

"What are you doin' here?" I parroted his inquiry.

"Well, I was gettin' my beauty sleep," he patted his cheeks lightly. "But there's some half lit dimwit yellin' for boys outside of my window." he stretched and then used the same arm to motion to the building next to Cody's.

"I'm not a bit lit!" I retorted.

Emmett rolled his eyes at me. I decided to allow it

"I didn't catch your reason for being here." he pressed me like the paper he wrote for.

"I didn't throw it." I answered simply, then went ahead and told him.

"I have an appointment." I was brief and vague in my explanation, much to Emmett's displeasure. "Pause the presses on this." I ordered, as I watched the man knock on the glass paned door. He waved away my instruction and added several more raps to the entrance.

When I was about to tell Em to give up, the door swung open. A man who was not Cody hadn't smiled.

He gave me a look of annoyance. I had acquired quite the collection.

"What's with the knocks? Whaddya' want?" he almost growled.

Ya see, as far as dispositions went, the man's was far from sunny.

"We have an appointment." Emmett said confidently.

_We_ didn't have anything but I hadn't corrected him. I just wanted in the door.

The Super (Mr. Kyle, so his badge had told us.) raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "An appointment with who?" he challenged, disbelieving.

"With, uh..." Emmett paused. I hadn't provided him with that information.

Mr. Kyle drank Em's hesitation like a shot of hooch followed by a chaser of mistrust.

"Uh huh, I thought so. Who are you fellas?" The man crossed his arms and spread his legs completely blocking the doorway.

Like some big bruno bouncin' a notorious club. Only I was sure most people was in no rush to gain access to a crumbling joint on Lexington and Fourth.

Fortunately, I wasn't most people. I was me and me needed to get inside.

"You can't get in now." the man boomed.

"Of course not," I replied "You're standing in my way."

Mr. Kyle narrowed his eyes. I think in attempt to stab me with the daggers in his stare. It hadn't worked.

I sighed in annoyance not defeat. Emmylou sighed too, then clasped his hand around my shoulder. "Let's try the back door." he whispered in my ear.

I smirked, "Coming on to me Honeycutt?" I teased.

Emmett made a face of disgust, which I mirrored.

We both chuckled. Dry, sarcastic laughter that further proved I genuinely liked the guy.

I nodded an OK to his idea. We hurried around the building stopping when we reached the alley behind it.

Emmett had then helped me up to the fire escape. During which, I'd made a wise crack about his dainty muscles.

He'd handed me one about my weight. I threatened to crush him with said weight.

It was a real humdinger of a fine time, but it was over.

Once I'd climbed into a half opened window I'd turned and looked down at him. I'd been grateful for his assistance but I wasn't about to let a newshawk witness my talkin' to Cody. I had no idea what beans the bartender was going to spill. "When I can tell ya what I can't tell ya, I will." I promised. I'm pretty sure I'd meant it too.

I swirled around and looked at the numbers on the apartments.

2B...or not 2B. I was on the third floor.

With a rush down the steps and a push on a door...I was there.

The bold symbols seemed to stare intensely back at me.

Instantly the whole room felt off. For some reason I suddenly felt uneasy.

I'd soon learned just what that reason was...and soon so will you.

* * *

><p>Flogger- Overcoat<br>Dib- Tell/Dish  
>Drugstore Cowboy- a guy that hangs around on a street corner trying to pick up girls.<br>Humdinger- An impressive or extraordinary example.

"What's the story Drunkin' Whorey?"-Will & Grace


	13. You Always Hurt the Ones you Love

I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Gripping the knob in one fist, I knocked with the other.

"Cody!" I called out, probably too soft to be heard.

I gestured with a sweep of my arm into the room. I'd accepted my invite and stepped inside.

The place was poorly lit, hideously decorated and small, tiny. Alright, if you prefer to be optimistic about it, it was cozy.

I needed to find Cody and check he was okay. I conducted a quick sweep of the place with just my eyes.

At first glance, it hadn't appeared that anyone was there.

At second glance, I noticed that Cody was home.

Another note-worthy point: He was certainly NOT okay.

That damn 'fear' emotion snuck up on me as I snuck up on the kid; sprawled out on the living room floor.

The undesirable feeling was houndin' me like an annoying friend I couldn't ditch.

Once near the boy, I'd crouched close to him.

His opened eyes weren't seein' nothing but nothin'.

My open eyes however, saw the blood stainin' the bartender. There was a lot of it.

Any hope of revivin' the man had disintegrated what I'd guessed, just hours ago. Now, I aint no croaker but bein' in the bull business, I've seen my share of stiffs. This one expired not too long before now.

Really taking in the scene, I saw legit signs of a knock-over. A struggle. Decorative debris peppered the floor. An overturned frame, a cut cushion, a broken lamp.

I shifted my attention back to the small knife protruding from Cody's neck. My eyes studied the weapon.

I'd recognized it.

My memory scanned images, it last settled on a picture of Justin. In it, he'd been poppin' the top off the brew Cody'd served him.

'He'd set the pocket chiv back on the bar...' "Right?" the word escaped my thoughts. It ran full force and tumbled into the air.

My voice had wavered, like my confidence in Justin's innocence.

"Right what?" an unexpected whisper inquired. The voice was soft, intrigued, and attached to a certain news hound apparently incapable of followin' the command 'Stay'.

"How did you get in here Honeycutt?

"Well, there's this real sweet gal in the apartment above ya. She saw me outback and buzzed me in. Then I just followed the scent of expensive aftershave and cheap morals."

I was sure he was grinnin' just as sure as I wasn't.

I didn't reply; only gestured toward Cody's corpse wearin' a 'well, here you'll see what you weren't supposed to' look.

Emmett bent slightly, (it'd be a lie to call it a crouch) toward the lifeless kid. The gruesome scene pulled a scream of fright from Emmett.

He cut the sound short, almost embarrassed. He'd surely never seen a man on ice before.

One tap of a second after the scream, Em spoke. "Was that me? Did I just scream like a woman?"

I couldn't help but grin then. "Don't oversell yourself Emmy-lou. You screamed like a little girl."

Emmett conceded with integrity, a slight bob of his head in agreement.

I explained just enough vague facts to pacify him, still maintaining my promise to tell him more later if he kept quiet for now.

We both knew how hard of a task that'd be for him.

Like askin' me to refrain from boys, booze, or Babylon.

So this needed to be wrapped up soon before Emmett's secret keepin' ability went kaput.

I handed him Carl's card and told him to call him after I left.

Emmett eyed me questionably, "A cop? That's a funny kinda friend."

"He's a funny kinda cop." I answered simply. "Tell him what I told ya." I further instructed.

"But you told me not to tell we was here." Emmett countered.

I shook my head, spoke loudly, rushed. "Don't do what I told you, do what I tell ya!"

Emmett answered with a curt nod, I saw his shaky hands dial the rotary as I was closin' the door.

I was sure I wouldn't have much time before Carl tracked me down.

As much as I loathed the portrait these facts was paintin', I disliked betrayin' the law even more.

Carl was theoretically on this case with me; and he needed in the loop.

This loop, this noose slowly tightening around my throat. The woven rope of all of the threads sewin' Justin's guilt in place.

'Where was Justin? More importantly, where had he been when Cody was offed?'

That was the question I'd repeatedly asked myself as I drove back to the blond's house.

When I'd parked in front of it I had yet to provide an answer.

I saw movement in the window facin' the street. Justin was home. I let myself in, hopin' the kid could answer the question himself.

I swear I could hear my pounding pulse over the noise he was makin' in the kitchen.

All of my feelings started trampling one another. Stomping out both the desired and unwanted. I loathed to tell the kid about his friend. I was scared still that he wouldn't be so surprised by the news.

I didn't want to think what I was thinkin'.

'Ethan and Cody.'

I paused my steps, suddenly very nervous to see Justin. It seemed of late, gettin' close to the kid ain't turned out so well for them...Ethan and Cody.

Right now, they was real snug in their Chicago overcoats.

"You always hurt the ones you love..." the ironic lyrics sang from the record like a sick prophecy.

The music spilled from the kitchen. I gulped, but still I'd crossed the threshold.

I watched his hips sway to the tune, his back to me, he mixed a bowl with a wooden spoon. He appeared happy as a lark. I relaxed just a little.

"I thought I told ya to stay put." he lectured me, still not facing me. I briefly wondered how he'd heard me come in. I tensed again.

He started to turn around, I'd soon meet his eyes.

I dreaded it.

I craved it.

"Where'd ya go? You almost missed breakfast." he smiled and I went all jelly for the toast he was makin'.

"I was, Uh," I didn't finish answerin' cause he spoke again.

"Wheats!" he sang, pulling the spoon up to show the batter. It drizzled down into the bowl. My coherence drizzled a little with it.

"Nice and sticky." Justin said, placing the bowl on the counter and picking up a bottle of syrup. The thick amber moved slowly within the bottle, dancing between pale fingers.

I could tell he tried to read my face, but I kept it illegible.

He set everything on the counter top and walked toward me; all slinky and cat-like and I wanted to purr.

Closer now, he smiled Right. Into. My. Eyes.

Without meaning to, I imagined a scenario involving him with no clothes and that bottle of syrup.

I was unsure as to the reasons for Justin's cheeky mood. Albeit I was sure I wasn't complainin' as much as I should've.

How could he be like this after last night? After...well, hopefully Justin wouldn't know about Cody.

I was the unlucky bastard that'd have to tell him. I would too. Just as soon as I remembered how to talk.

Justin's hands were gently gripping my hips. I told my knees to toughin' up.

''Where ya been?" he asked and I felt on the flip-side of hot lights. Many a perp I'd interrogated, none of whom seemed to sweat as much as me under Justin's question.

I wasn't obligated to tell him my whereabouts no how. I turned the question back on him. Just one of the tactics I'd learned from Carl.

"I woke up, I was here. You weren't. Where'd ya go?" Involuntarily my eyes narrowed, the old bull buckin' through em.

He paused, or I'd imagined he did but answered soon enough.

"The market silly." he explained. "I ain't gotten groceries in a stretch." he spoke slower now, he eyed me cautious. Curious. "Wanted to surprise ya with my culinary skills." he added playfully.

I watched him watch me and I blinked, closing my drapes. Damn this kid, peering in whenever he pleased.

I'd hoped he hadn't heard accusation in my inquiry of his morning's movements. Nobody was accusing him of anything...yet.

Too soon to react, (though I'm not convinced I'd have reacted differently given more time) Justin's fierce lips were pressed against my own.

They was warm, delicious. Tasting of wicked temptation and flapjack batter.

I had a sneakin' hunch the boy had only kissed me to keep me from askin' anymore questions.

In retrospect I'd been hopin' to hide my suspicions. Perhaps the kid's mouth was just the place. It was dark and boy was it deep.

I felt his tongue enter in full thrust, I could taste all of him. The deeper our tongues tugged and pulled, the further buried, I'd hoped, my suspicions would become.

When I felt his arm snake around my back, I couldn't help but think he was searchin' for a spot to stick the knife.

Suddenly the room held very little oxygen. Though it held plenty of doubt.

'What was I doin'? The kid could be a buttonman. Could ice me right here.' That is, if this kiss didn't kill me first.

Both not quick enough and still too soon, Justin's rhythm decreased.

The whole world seemed to stop spinnin'. Like a scene in slow motion in one of them moving Hollywoodland pictures they showed in the city.

It took a lot of strength to muster my movement.

Reluctantly, I pulled apart and looked at him. I saw the shyness in his eyes I ain't seen since I met him.

"Forgive me." he spoke the words hushed. "I lost my self control."

I just shrugged, "Have a look around for it, while I pour some joe." I said.

If I was to breech the subject of Cody, I needed liquid courage. I needed hooch. But given the early hour, I'd settle for coffee. It smelled delicious. It smelled like a viable distraction.

On the counter Justin had arranged milk, sugar and porcelain tea cups as delicate as his features.

I picked one up, filled it and handed it to Justin. He took it from me but didn't even glance at it. His eyes had been too busy bein' fixed on me.

I added a Ludocris amount of sugar to my cup. Void of words, I took a generous swig.

It burned hotter than any Queen's flame this side of the Mississippi.

I pretended it hadn't.

It scalded my throat; burning further the hot topic waiting in my mouth.

Justin must've noticed I was tense cause' he'd caught me off guard...again. He had a filthy habit of doing that.

"Something's wrong." he observed, correctly.

There was worry (for me) in his expression, and I chose to bask in it for a moment. I let me believe his concern was genuine. Hell, maybe it was.

I moved closer to the kid, I'd debated placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. I settled against it. Instead, I sighed deeply.

I made a point to look him in the eyes, I spoke calmly, slow and concerned. "About your friend Cody, he's dead." I broke the news bluntly.

Delicate cup and matching features fell simultaneously south.

Porcelain and composure shattered.

He stayed frozen like that for a second or two.

Just stood, still.

Unblinking. Unbreathin'.

Lookin' like a photograph of the man he was supposed to be.

Eventually an unnecessary question came from his lips. "Whaddya mean dead?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

He and I both knew the definition of dead was not alive.

"What the hell is goin' on? How much more of this can I take?" he sounded suddenly exhausted, deflated, broken.

And I swear a little something in me broke too. Probably that too strong coffee dissolving my organs.

"Wait." he rasped suddenly. "What were you doing at Cody's?"

An unwanted image of a cornered rat, Justin's hands with a rollin' pin held high, flashed in my mind. I shook it away and gulped.

I had to tell him, but damn it, he had quite a few songs he needed to be singin' to me. Yeah, that pretty blond head surely held too many secrets.

I gave in first, tellin' him about Cody's note and special requests. To my immense relief he didn't even yell.

In direct contrast with my predicted response, his posture went soft and he...hugged me. Gently. A barely there embrace.

But Justin Taylor was nothing if not unpredictable.

I'm certain it was not even a whole second later his previous posture hardened and he drew away from me.

"You asked where I was." he let out a breath filled with an emotion I didn't like. It burned in his eyes too. He was hurt, livid. "You weren't askin' outta curiosity. You was lookin' for an alibi!" he didn't scream, but definitely spoke loud enough to shake loose some of my unused regret.

For someone usually as polite as a prince he could queen out with the best of em'.

He turned and stomped away, fast enough for drama but slow enough to follow. I stepped up behind him, I didn't dare touch him.

"Last night, with Ethan," he stayed faced away from me; his voice was soft again.

I couldn't keep up with his mood. I felt winded.

"You said you believed me." he whispered to the wall and to me.

"I know what I said, I was there when I said it." My smartass emerged. It's timing was awful.

Justin turned now, his face was not a happy one.

I scrambled to save the moment. "I did. I do." Unsure of who I tried to convince more, me or him.

'No. This kid was no killer. I believed him. Sure. Didn't I? Yes. Yes I did. Maybe.'

"Brian." he whispered and that damn coffee broke it's way through my heart. "I need to be alone. Just, give me time."

Unsure of what to say, I said nothing. I turned and headed for the door.

Sunshine would get his time. I just hoped like hell it weren't gonna be twenty to life.

* * *

><p>Sing-Confess<br>Knock-over-Robbery  
>Wheats-Pancakes<br>Chicago Overcoat-Casket  
>Stretch- A While<br>Hooch-Bootleg Liquor  
>Tap-BriefFleeting  
>Man on Ice-Dead Body<p>

The famous California sign was first erected in 1923 and originally read 'HOLLYWOODLAND'. In 1949 'LAND' was removed.

"A cop?" "A funny kind of friend you have." "He's a funny kind of cop." -The Killing (1956)


	14. I'll Fly Away

"Well if it ain't everyone's favorite Dick." I heard a familiar voice, all nasal and charm.

Daphne lay unladylike still in her nightgown. She was sprawled on a wicker lounger lookin' like the secret every straight man kept from his wife.

Her creamy legs moved as smooth as cocoa when she crossed em' at the ankle. She turned on her side. One slender arm was propped beneath her head, the other kissin' a tobacco stick.

"Are you decent?" I smiled.

"Me? Decent?" she smiled, "Take a seat." she said as I stepped onto her porch.

I sat, knowing better than to refuse. Her slender hand waved toward me, ribbons of smoke followed the motion. Even Daphne's warm smile couldn't reach the worried chill in my bones.

"So, ya make house calls detective?" she glanced briefly to Justin's door, then drew in her cigarette, exhaling in perfect dainty rings.

"Business." I stated unconvincingly. The door opened beside me, it's squeakin' screen shared the air with my word.

I then made eye contact with a not so lively Hunter Montgomery. The kid had clearly just awakened, his hair and clothes equally rumpled. I shifted only my eyes to Daphne, who just shrugged and took a final drag of her smoke.

She put it out on the small table beside her seat. A smirk greeted her lips and she shrugged. "Business." she insisted facetiously.

Despite all the droppin' bodies of the last hours, I smiled at her.

"Detective." Hunter greeted me.

I stared at him blankly.

His hands flew up, "I swear. I was here all night." I assumed it was supposed to be funny.

I stared at him blankly.

I didn't smile. He didn't have his lady friend's charm...or her legs.

The kid walked over to place a quick kiss on Daphne's cheek. After which, she sat up giving him room beside her. He was younger than her, though not by much.

In tryin' to impolitely guess her age, it hit me. 'Daphne had likely gone to school with Justin...and Cody.'

"I have some news and some questions." I directed my words to Daphne.

Noticin' my not noticing him, Hunter scoffed. "Boy, you sure know how to make a fella feel wanted."

I moved only my eyes to him. "Sure. I'll hang your picture in the post office." I smiled. He didn't.  
>Shifting back to Daphne, I asked, "How well did you know Cody Bell?"<p>

"The bartender?" Hunter asked.

"_Did_ Detective?" Daphne's question eclipsed his.

I guess I shoulda started with 'Listen here. I'm sorry but this kid's been offed.' In the end I had told her that, and with as much tact as I could.

Turns out there's an array of skills I do not have. Tactfulness being among them.

Daphne's usual strength collapsed into her boy toy's arms. She and Hunter both winced when I described the scene of Cody's metal poisoning.

"It's awful." she whispered. Though she weren't no weak sister for long. I watched her quiet tears give way to stern focus. Her shoulders straightened and she looked at me. "Who did this to him?" she asked me.

Being the only one with a badge, I should've known that answer. I didn't.

Sure, I coulda told her Justin seemed the likely culprit. I didn't. I was still convinced there was an alternate explanation. Despite the body of evidence mounting on the body I wanted to mount.

"Well, I have an idea about that, though it's useless and unformed at best." I told her regretfully.

I certainly had my suspicions. All involving this elusive 'H'. That pesky letter hammered away in my mind. Tap. Tap. Tap. Chipping away piece by piece, my sanity. I loathed that letter.

As previously established, you'll remember, I preferred to solve things on my own. Though, sometimes a man knows when to ask for help.

"Actually," I started slow. "I think you may be of some help." I finished strong. I could do this. I had to. Justin sat somewhere (just feet away) sad, broken and confused. If he hadn't known it yet, he soon would...somebody was hard pressed to frame him. The perfect portrait of a patsy.

Daphne eyed me eagerly, listened intently. I told her everything I knew and I the things I didn't. My final question elicited the tears again. "What do ya' think he meant about Justin and Queer hatin'?" the last words almost stuck to my tongue.

"I'll tell you exactly what he meant." she replied.

She lit another cigarette and offered it to me. Surprising myself, I declined. My impatient wonder peeked out through my eyes.

"It's an old story, I don't drag it out much." she said softly, almost sad, but leaned back in her seat.

I scooted to the edge of mine.

I listened to that story closer than I'd ever listened before. Had I paid as much attention in life as I had her voice, surely I'd've been more successful.

With each word she spoke I felt the weight of ignorance lift from my shoulders. The more information that fell into place the lighter I began to feel. A lightness so freeing, perhaps I'll fly away.

Allow me to fill you in...

They had been at their high school's 'Spring Fling'. Cody and Justin had claimed they was goin' stag. In actuality, they was goin' together. As in TOGETHER.

This Chris fella, (Hobbs, I'd learned. H! Hot damn! Hot dog! Hot Justin! Wait, strike that last one. I'm gettin' off point. Don't judge me.) had caused a wicked scene.

He had beat the livin' daylights outta the boy, darkening the afternoon sky in his eyes.

Upon that part of the story I'd clenched my teeth and my fists. Go ahead, you're free to hate Hobbs as I do.

"I think," Daphne's voice sounded determined "Chris was secretly sweet on Justin."

My lips parted for no apparent reason.

When I really thought about it, I could believe it easy to secretly love the blond.

I stopped really thinking about it.

Instead, I thought about the sentence that had just whipped by my ear. "Last I heard, Hobbs moved to Harrisburg." Daphne's voice carried.

A lock unlatched somewhere in my brain. It opened a door, it clicked into place.

I reached inside the breast pocket of my jacket and retrieved the picture of Ethan and Mr. X. "This him?" I asked, all but shoving it toward her.

I saw excitement in her face for only a second. It fell in to a frown. "No." she answered, disappointment clear as crystal.

"Hey Daph," Hunter's forgotten voice joined us again. "don't you gots a yearbook?"

I looked at him, a smidgen impressed. It was possible, though a terrifying thought that Montgomery was a genius.

I raised an inquisitive eyebrow in Daphne's direction. She was already halfway through her door. I waited with Hunter in uncomfortable quiet on the porch.

Too long later, Daphne returned. She held the book out open to me.

Fifty tiny faces stared out at me from the pages. It was creepy.

My eyes pulled to the names listed, Christopher Hobbs. Using my finger, I skimmed the row stopping at his picture. It felt hot to the touch or I imagined it did.

I studied the face and knew I'd never seen it. Back then I didn't know if he had been a verified criminal, but he had a very 'criminally' look about him.

Suddenly I felt hot breath on my neck. "Sure, that's the cat I seen on Taylor's porch." Hunter exclaimed. He put the forgotten photo of Gold in Harrisburg back in my hands.

"You think him and Gold was in cahoots?" He sounded overly eager and loud. "Filthy Cahooters!" he declared, still breathing very near on my ear.

I didn't even complain of his close proximity. I was too busy runnin' through possibilities in my head.

I certainly liked Chris Hobbs as the goofy goon jamming this mess. When it came to 'bad feelings' this hood was lousy with em'.

I recounted the events of the last few days and tried to draw the whole picture. But like I said, I knew shit about art. I zoned away from Daphne and Hunter and let my mind sloppily scribble a scenario.

I looked down at the picture in my hands. I recalled the disheveled state of Justin's house the night we'd found it. Recalled the anger and hurt in blue. It got my knickers in a right twist.

So the photograph of Ethan's infidelity had, as I'd guessed been left with purposeful malice. I realized with a sinking feeling, that in order for him to have recognized Ethan in Harrisburg, Hobbs had to have kept tabs on Justin...all these years.

I swallowed that particular 'icky' and pushed forward in my thoughts.

It was highly likely, if not definite, that Chris had been blackmailing Ethan. Had threatened to snitch his affair to Justin.

I tried not to wonder too much on his reason. It was either purely financial or something...else. Briefly I thought Hobbs was jealous of Gold.

I didn't like that at all.

The timing of Ethan's recent return to Harrisburg and his exceptional windfall with the ponies were connected. Surely, Hobbs had learned of the kid's recent two million dollar gain.

I thought about Gold's abandoned keys dangling from the door. Perhaps he had seen Hobbs' unexpected arrival. Had bolted, hiding like a coward in that sleaze joint. I bit back the taste of anger at the thought.

The rat hadn't even warned Justin. Had left him clueless and unguarded. I was almost glad Ol' Hobbs had gotten to the motel first.

Okay, so I still had questions. Most prominently, 'What was Bell's business in this?'.

Retracing the line I'd since drawn, it lead me back to Cody. To Babylon. To Shandaleer.

Chris had been the one to hit the songbird, likely she'd confided in Cody. Perhaps Cody had learned it on his own. Either way, Hobbs would've killed Bell for Knowin' he was back in town. To keep his head shut to Justin.

My gut churned at the idea of what Hobbs' next move was gonna be.

I met Hunter's eyes and I nodded to Daphne. "Keep an eye on her." I ordered.

"Always." he smiled and pulled her close.

I turned so quick I almost stumbled down the steps. I looked at Justin's house.

I hated the part of me that ever doubted him. I prided it too. It was what kept me guarded and Detective-like. A worthy man of the law.

This wasn't no friendly game no more. This was high stakes. I took the gamble and walked across Justin's lawn. I was all in.

* * *

><p>Metal Poisoning-Stabbed<br>Weak Sister-Thin skinned  
>Goofy Goon-Crazy thug<br>Jamming This Mess-Causing trouble  
>Hood-Criminal<br>Lousy With-Lots of  
>Snitch-Tell<br>Head Shut-Keep quiet/Shut-up

"Gilda, are you decent?" "Me?" -Gilda(1946)


	15. It's Too Soon To Know

I walked in like I owned the place.

"Just-." My word cut short at the sight of him. He'd emerged from his bedroom wearing the accessories of a nap. Half lidded eyes, wrinkled cloths and messy hair ten shades of adorable.

He didn't seem to notice me, until he did.

"What are you doing here Brian?" he asked. Flat. He was still none too pleased by my presence.

"I. Uh…Well," Clearly I was not at my most articulate.

Justin stretched and quite literally plopped down on the sofa. Briefly, I remembered our cozy cuddle on that couch. I finally found two useful words and gave them to him, "Christopher Hobbs."

I spoke them guarded, like peeking out from a hiding place to see if it's safe. My movement was equally cautious.

Justin's eyes widened at the name but he didn't object when I sat down beside him. Having no immediate response, he sighed. The soft cushions caressed him like I didn't.

Several seconds of silence spoke first.

Justin straightened his shoulders and pulled his knees to his chest, his hands clasped firmly around them. He was barefoot. A new part of him I'd never seen. Even his toes were cute.

For a few more quiet moments we just sat there; me and that little blond ball on the couch.

Though he didn't look at me, I heard his voice. "I haven't heard that name in a long time." He closed his eyes. "Except in my nightmares" he added. An after-thought.

I was almost convinced he wasn't going to say anything else. Soon enough however, he dropped his legs back to the floor and relaxed his posture. He looked at me and I swear he wanted to smile.

He was glad I was back. Why had I come back? Was it to feel out Justin's reaction to Hobbs or maybe to feel up Justin just cause? I sat there asking myself questions like both detective and suspect.

In the end, I deduced I'd come just to see the boy was still in one piece. Relief stretched through me like a lazy cat soakin' up the sun.

"Hobbs. H." Justin said almost wistfully and gave a slight shake of his head. Like he couldn't believe he'd not thought of him before.

"I can't believe I didn't suspect him before." He confirmed my perception. See, I know things.

"I think Hobbs is the key that unlocked all this chaos." I said as I began to piece it together for him. Ethan's affair, Hobbs' stalking, the blackmail, even the opinion that I thought Ethan was going to tell Justin himself. He needed to know something was right in all of this wrong.

As I talked, he seemed to search my eyes for something. I didn't know what and I couldn't tell whether or not he'd found it. If he was lookin' for doubt, he was wasting his time.

"So, you believe I'm innocent?"

"I've never known a Taylor to lie."

"Have you met many Taylors?" He almost smiled again, his fingers inched toward my leg. He was trying to inch unnoticed. I noticed.

"You're the first one." I answered as his hand found my knee.

A parade of images marched through my mind. I felt like I was about to explode like confetti. My colorful fantasies prepared to decorate his living room.

I stiffened just about everywhere as he pulled himself into my lap.

His hair tickled my nose as he rested his head on my shoulder. I hoped he couldn't smell my anticipation as I smelled his shampoo. I tried to tell my excited parts to calm down.

I didn't know the rules of the mourning period and didn't want to appear overeager. Which was exactly what I was. In that moment I held enough enthusiasm for every man in the Pitts. In the world.

Unfortunately for me, there would be no proper improper touching. The kids' tears rained out my impending parade.

Not a downpour, but a quiet drizzle that made me ache a little. He pulled back and met my eyes. Their blue seemed to deepen as they looked back on a darker time.

He told me the same tale Daphne had about that horrible high school night. Only his version was filled with a lot more emotions that made me uncomfortable.

I listened as he blamed himself for Cody and Ethan's deaths. I've long ago come to terms with my inability to comfort others. I tried my best, awkwardly bringing my arms around him. It took but a second to feel natural and I tightened my grip.

"I'm sorry you got mixed up in this." He said and turned his body to face me, his knees on either side of mine.

I shook my head at him. Not bothering to tell him how much I wished to mix with him and trying like the dickens not to dwell on the fact that I hadn't had sex in days. And definitely ignoring the fact that I hadn't thought about any man but him

Still trying out this comforting others regime, I swiped stray blond from his brow. Can I just mention how soft his hair was, and his skin…Oh right, comfort.

"Hey, none of this is your fault. You can't control Hobbs' insanity." I told him, while quietly understanding how Justin Taylor could drive a man to madness. I mean take me for example. Straddled by a man…fully clothed. _Talking_.

He looked directly into my eyes and asked, "What's going to happen to me? That Detective Horvath, he thought…"

I cut him off with swift wave of my hand. "It'll be alright." I said, still the King of generic responses. I truly hoped it would be, though It was too soon to know. All of this speculation about Justin was based on lies. Dirty ones. The kind you can't wash away with soap.

He gave me a small grin that said 'Thanks for trying.' Then he gave me another one that said he was leaning in for the kill. He parted my legs with his knees and my lips with his.

His grinding body. His breath on my skin. I glanced at the clock above the fireplace, to note my time of death.

'Was this a good idea?'. I probably shoulda asked him, but I already had my hands on his ass and my tongue down his throat.

In the back of my mind I knew Carl would've been to Cody's door and would soon be at this one. I had an intense but fleeting urge to take Justin away somewhere.

I'd be guilty of aiding and abetting and then bedding him. By now there was no denying my personal interest in this person of interest.

Right then though, it'd have been damn difficult to runaway to anywhere besides the bedroom. Justin pressed his very excited excitement against me, I shivered or I imagined I did.

My body moved under his and my hands touched everything they could reach. He gasped my name into my mouth, it tasted incredible. It was decided then that nothing was going to happen to him. I wouldn't let it.

And then, as if cued by an author telling my story, there was an aggressive knock at the door. Justin groaned. I cursed.

"Police!" said a voice that flowed from the porch directly to my ears, certainly meant only to kill my erection. Ugh. Jimmy Stills.

"Mr. Taylor?" Carl's nicer voice accompanied a softer knock.

Looking terrified, Justin jumped from my lap straightened his clothes and smoothed his hair. His jaw dropped and I swear I heard it hit the floor.

I didn't trust in my ability to form a sentence just yet. Eventually I joined him on my feet. I looked sadly at his crotch for a moment longer than appropriate. A libido was a terrible thing to waste.

Though my mind was full of filth, my hands were clean. I used them to pull open the door.

"Hello, I'm sorry for the intrusion Mr. Taylor." Carl said then moved his uneasy eyes to mine. "Brian, I assume you know why we're here? I think it'd be best if we talked inside. PLEASE."

This was serious. He was talking in complete sentences and capital letters.


	16. I'll Never Smile Again

**A/N:** Hi there you lovely people. I know I have been gone for a ridiculous amount of time,but sometimes things just can't be helped.I apologize endless apologies. This story is fully written. For any of you still following my words, There are 6 more chapters after this one. I will work to get it completely typed and posted this week. I thank you for your support and patience. Well wishes & air kisses~Mandi

* * *

><p>One. Two. Three. Four.<p>

I counted the muted thuds of my fingers as they met with the counter top; slightly sticky from my abandoned daydream entitled 'Syrupy time'.

I'd started the repetition what seemed like hours ago; after the Bull and the Jackass arrived with a warrant for Justin's arrest.

Any and all dreams went back to sleep, leaving us with only this nightmare.

So here we was in Justin's kitchen, smelling of a breakfast feast no one ate, Stills' cheap cologne and worry. A lot of the latter.

Stills shot me a look clearly stolen from my arsenal. The part of smugly smirking S.O.B was already cast and I wasn't auditioning understudies. His presence was bringing yuck to my yum.

He'd been quick to finger Taylor and not in a positive life affirming way. I tuned out Carl's voice as it continued to explain the circumstances.

Justin's prints on two murder weapons. For two stiffs.

Stiffs that were makin' Justin a little wobbly.

As Jimmy demonstrated his knack for irking my every nerve, I looked down at the counter. A plate of forgotten toast left a bread crumb trail to the butter dish. My fingers found the cool metal of the dullest utensil. I tightened my grip, lest I slip and stab Stills sans sharpness. Accidentally. Of course.

Unprompted, my stomach whined a bit for a bite of toast. It's growl audible over both Carl and Justin's voices. Both of which had gone silent.

I simply glared at Ol' Jimbo and spoke, "I think I have mood poisoning. It must be something I hate." I dropped the butter knife and clutched my abdomen with one hand.

"You're the most arrogant man in existence." Stills said through a tight line of lips.

"Oh, you've not met every man." I brushed off his accusation with the arrogance of every man in existence.

Stills scowled. Carl scorned. Sunshine smiled; a sad sort of smile that made me frown. It seemed to tell me 'I'll never smile again.' And I hoped that wasn't true.

I watched him. The thought of Chris Hobbs out there somewhere, roamin', killin' brought distress to his eyes. My own glared at the toaster as if it were to blame for the entire situation.

I'd interjected moments ago with my tale of Hobbs' frame job. I'd arrived to this lil' rendezvous ready to tip my mitt. Armed with an instinct my gut was proud of. Carl shared it's pride.

So I told him what I told you Daphne told me.

"I believe this Hobbs character is worth looking into. Brian, you're not on the force anymore. So uh, you know, stay out of this thing any further."

"Yeah right." I said.

"Yeah right." Carl said simultaneously.

Carl sighed, "I see you're determined to miss my point." He continued. "I mean it Kinney. Please. I need a little patience and understanding here."

"A littles all I got." I replied, knowing full well I was going to remain very much in 'this thing'.

He sighed my name and gave his head a little shake. I'd probably find another warning in there if I wasn't too lazy to search for it.

"You know what your problem is Kinney?" Stills interjected.

There was a pause.

I had many problems. Not being ace at annoying the man wasn't one of them. "Are you going to tell me or dangle it and make me jump for it?"

"Ooo. Ugh." The frustrated sound of Jimmy's frustration. "You have all the answers." he said, exasperated.

"You have all the questions." Ace.

"Dagnabitt Fellas!" Carl intervened. He turned to Justin.

"I'm going to look for Mr. Hobbs son. But right now, I got the Chief breathing down my neck to make this pinch. Besides, if this man is as dangerous as I'm thinking then I think it's probably safest for you in jail."

He gave what most would consider and painful grimace. I knew from experience it was Carl's idea of a reassuring smile. You can only wear the tin so long before you start to become it.

"Your accounts have been frozen while we figure this out." He continued to Justin. "So if bail is set at arraignment tomorrow, it may not be an option."

Justin sunk a little further at that, I did not. I agreed with Carl. I wanted him locked up tight. Safe. Preferably with the same lock with which I usually imprison my sunny disposition.

The meter on this conversation was running out. I swear I could feel the creation and demise of every fear filled tick of time.

A stifling, suffocating countdown.

Four. Three. Two. One.

I swallowed the air while it still remained and pushed off from the counter. I moved to stand next to Justin.

I felt like I should say something to make things okay for him. There were no such words. I settled on pressing my palm to the small of his back. He leaned into it.

Next, I watched helpless as Jimmy handcuffed the boy and read him his rights. I admit I'd had this dream before. Justin Taylor in bracelets.

Though in that one there had been a lot less people…and clothes. The only thing Blue eyes was wearin' was confidence. I regrettably shook aside the fantasy.

I needed a plan. Okay first things first, I need to make a plan to have a plan.

I ran my hands through my hair and left them to rest behind my head. I needed to think. I held onto my head pretending to give my brain time to percolate ideas. It was useless. We both know my mind wasn't in there. It was still handcuffed somewhere in Justin's pants. I was going to need that back.

My idea was ready. It had finished brewing and was served to me with the disinterest of a lethargic waitress. It tasted bitter.

To help Justin I'd have to do the one thing I thought I'd never do. I had to go deep into my scary place and hope I wouldn't be lost forever. I had to do something so un-me. A scarred for life type of thing…

…I had to ask Melanie Marcus for help.

"I'll talk to Mel and Lindsay." I told the blond. I wasn't sure what good that would do him but he seemed to accept the plan with gratitude.

Carl bid me a nod and followed behind as Stills lead Justin to the door. Justin looked to me.

His eyes screamed out to mine and I wished I could hear them.

I couldn't hear his heart either, but counted the breaths he struggled to steady. I imagined his heart beating away.

Once more my fingers fell in step, matching pulse for pulse.

Thumpa thumpa.

One. Two. Three. Four.

* * *

><p>Tip my mitt- Show your hand<br>Ace- Expert  
>Dagnabit- Damn it<br>Pinch- Arrest  
>Bracelets- Handcuffs<p> 


	17. There, I've Said it Again

"Detective Brian!" Gus' voice hit me full force before my foot reached the door. Perched in Melanie's secretary's chair, his too short, crossed legs tried desperately to stay propped on the desktop.

"Hey there." I smiled as I watched his left shoe slip three times before he gave up and stood.

I'll admit as he came closer to me, all wide eyed and self-assured I felt a little intimidated. Still unsure as to what Lindsay had told the kid, I was a little lost for appropriate crumb snatcher dialogue.

Lucky for me, Gus seemed to have enough words for us both. Some fancy ones.

He used his palms to straighten his shirt. His collar, I noticed, was adorned with a tie too big to be his own. The bright red garment hung nearly to his knees but was tied in an effortless Windsor knot. "It's a pleasure to see you this fine day." He said with practice effort. Likely he mimicked a radio show or story he'd read.

His voice was the same excited boys' it had been the last time I'd seen him, but his posture was more relaxed . I braced my body for a hugged leg I thought for sure was coming. It hadn't. Instead, Gus curved behind me and retrieved a hat (also too big and very similar to my own) from a low hanging hook on the wall. I followed his movement. He positioned to face me again and wore a serious expression. Close up I saw the small medal buzzer he had pinned to it's side. A toy police badge he'd surely gotten from the Five and Dime.

"So, we working a case? Any leads? Whodunnit?" he asked as I watched him retrieve a tattered notebook and pen from a pocket I didn't see.

He seemed to grow impatient with my lack of response. He flipped feverishly through pad of paper. Scribbles and doodles flew too fast for me to focus. His foot was tapping in time with the pen that tapped his hat.

"Come on? What are we waitin' for? There are lives to save. A job to do."

Now I've always operated under the notion that size is important. The bigger the better. I was learnin' that that didn't apply directly to people. This little one ain't so bad.

"Keep an eye out for unsavory characters." I told him.

He scribbled my instructions in his book. I took a peek, he'd written his name.

"Kinney." The most unsavory of characters spoke. I met Mel's eyes as she ushered Gus off toward Caroline who was putting crayons on her desk.

"What are you doing here? I thought you didn't work on days that end in…day."

I usually didn't. I had to remember I was here for a favor, I had to be polite.

"Nice shirt." I said politely.

Now knowing me, and I think I do; this was going to be a challenge. I couldn't stop myself. "It's hideous, it suits you." I'm a work in progress.

She rolled her eyes. "Such an ass." She said.

"Compliments?"

" Whaddaya want?" She asked.

"Justin." Boy, that just kinda slid right off my tongue there. That slippery son of a bitch.

Melanie smiled at me and it was only moderately terrifying.

I cleared my throat. "Justin needs your help." I corrected.

"Okay." She said easily enough that I wondered if I'd tuned into the wrong station.

"You're kidding." I spoke in disbelief.

"If I was in the mood to kid, I'd be with someone I like." She said.

"Point." I agreed.

She and I could've almost been friends if our personalities didn't keep getting in the way.

"He's been copped." I started, then glanced toward Gus.

I may be a novice builder of Father/Son relationships (my own model having been defective) but I'm a fast learner.

I didn't want Gus hearin' no tales of murder. More often than not I've found people are guilty until proven otherwise. Gus was already innocent and I wanted to keep him that way.

Melanie followed my eyes. "Hey Buddy, why don't you and Miss Caroline draw the Detective a picture." The boy beamed brightly. I gave out my first real smile in a while.

He was steady scribbling when Me and Mel entered her office. "Take a seat." She said. It was vast difference from what she usually suggested I do with my ass.

I started to tell her about Ethan, about Cody, about Hobbs. Melanie listened but kept her focus elsewhere. She flipped through her rolodex.

I was about to ask what she was looking for when the door opened. "Ah, Detective Gus out there told me I'd find you in here." Lindsay smiled.

I didn't say anything because Mel beat me to it. "Justin's in trouble." That's all she supplied before pulling a contact card and picked up the horn.

That's all Lindsay needed. Immediately she'd started asking questions. I guessed it proved my theory: When it came to Justin Taylor, he was worth giving a shit about.

Once more from the top! I told Lindsay what I'd told Mel I'd told Carl that I'd told you that Daphne told me. There, I've said it again.

"Hobbs." She said. "I know that name." Lindsay brought another chair over to mine. She did that thing with her eyes that forced mine to look at em'. I made a note to replace my drapes with steel shutters.

"When Justin first showed me his portfolio, there were a few pieces unlike the rest. Dark, lonely drawings." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "So much sadness."

The hate I held for Hobbs hit a new high.

"Okay." Mel's voice broke this bought of bothersome feelings.

"The boys in Harrisburg owed me a favor. I dropped a dime to their Chief; turns out Christopher Hobbs has a bench warrant out for him. Assault with a deadly weapon. Crushed out. No last known address."

Melanie said something else but I couldn't tell ya what. My mind was tossing ideas around, pounding inside my skull. Where would Hobbs be?

Mel's mouth moved some more.

"You'll need to produce this Hobbs if you're going to get your boyfriend outta jail."

Boyfriend.

BOYFRIEND.

'What?'

Mel looked at me expectantly, "Brian?"

"Oh I'm sorry I thought I said what."…"What?" I said, realizing just how tiny this office was, and hot.

Lindsay gave me a little shrug and a knowing grin. Melanie gave me…a headache.

I kept telling myself things as I made my way to the door. Things like, I'm not cut out to be anyone's, you know, that word that starts with a B.

Other things too like, Brian Kinney would never be sailing on that Ol' Relation-ship.

Nope. It's not for me.

Yep. That's what I told me.

I was a terrible liar.

The dames were right. No matter which way I wrapped him, Justin was a gift I didn't want to give back. I needed to find Hobbs.

Okay, so here's what I knew about finding lost things.

I knew absolutely nothing about finding lost things.

Single socks, dozens of pens and my self-respect still wandered out there somewhere. But I hadn't the time to miss them. I needed to go and I knew exactly where.

My search would begin with the little blond in the big house.

* * *

><p>Drop a Dime<strong>-<strong> Make a call  
>Crushed Out<strong>-<strong> left


	18. Prisoner of Love

I placed my accessories into the tray and equipped the festive 'Visitor' 's badge to my lapel. Dutifully, I tried to ignore all of the disapproving or overly nosey looks I was gettin'. Here, in the Pitts' Pen, the perfect place for the pigs of my past to sling mud around. Most of these cops had been my coworkers but never friends. Never those.

The stinkiest pig of all squealed. Stills.

I heard a buzz and walked through the now open gate. I felt a cold gust of air that made me shiver. The squealer followed.

"Brian Kinney gracing us civil folk twice in the same day? Come to see your Prisoner of Love?" Jimmy sneered. "I thought you only cared about getting laid and being useless."

"It's like you can see into my soul." Was all I said.

I wanted to focus on him even less than usual. Already the whole world was distant. Everyone seemed to speak lyrics to a song while I hummed a different tune in my head.

My focus was ahead of me. My focus was on the prisoner being seated in the third visitor stall from the left. My focus was on two lips that should've been smiling. No wonder it was cold in here.

I took a seat on the other side of the glass. The other side of the warmth.

Seeing Justin sent me a vision of Snow White encased in her glass casket. I remember once Claire made us all go see that flick for her birthday. Jack had slept through it, while her and Mom swooned over the Prince.

I myself thought Ol' Snow had had it right all along. I got myself through that day with a dream of my own: Seven Princes with only one personality trait to manage at a time.

_That_ I could handle. A piece of cake.

_Justin_? The whole cake.

Taylor took all of his traits and tied 'em together. He twisted and tangled my thoughts and my things.

If he _were_ Snow White I could've kissed him to freedom and the fuckin' blue jays would sing us a tune. But it's like I've told youse before, this weren't no fairytale.

"I need you to listen." I said into the provided receiver. He didn't speak but gave a gentle nod.

I told him not to worry but he could tell my words were hollow.

"Do you have any idea where Hobbs could be? Anywhere you can think of?"

"No." he said too quickly to have considered it.

"Think." I said, biting back the bull a bit. I wanted to cheer him up not chew him out.

He jumped a little regardless then put the phone to his forehead. He gave it a tap that I hoped loosened a thought or two.

"This is about you Justin. Is there somewhere that would mean something?" I didn't add 'to the two of you.' because I refused to put him and Hobbs anywhere near each other.

A quick flash of his hand drew me to his face. He spoke into the phone with energy I wanted to borrow.

"Yes." he said with an air of certainty. "The Locker Room." He went on.

I knew the place.

It used to be a good place to do bad things.

I wasn't keen on picturing Justin in a place like that. A place I'd spent many of my teenage years misbehaving in. The old club had been closed for a few years now. Joints like Popperz classing up the Pitts without permission.

The Locker Room stood empty downtown, home to rats. Mice and men alike. Shady dealings and dirty business.

Justin shied away from my gaze, embarrassed I'd guessed. "We…" he spoke again, "We went there once, started to fool around. He got off and it was…." He paused a tick and I both anticipated and dreaded his continuation. What did I want him to say? What did I not? "…weird." He finished and I felt a bit better. I didn't say anything, just waited for him to define this weird and hoped it was all bad. Then I felt bad for wishing bad on the kid who had had enough bad for us both.

"I'd had a crush on Chris most of High school and I thought it was my chance. Once we were finished he freaked. Completely. He called me," his blue eyes flicked to mine for the first time in too long "a lot of nasty things." He didn't elaborate. "This was just a week before," his voice a whisper "Spring fling."

I flinched at the secondhand memory that was passed down to me. It was torn and worn and too big for me to fill out.

So Hobbs had enjoyed Justin's touch as any sane man would. Unluckily (Such is life) Christopher Hobbs was no sane Sandy. There were just crumbly crumbs of crazy in his cockeyed cookie jar.

I didn't tell Justin what I'd read loud and queer…Hobbs was as khaki wacky as this gay was long. He was so far in the closet he was finding Christmas presents.

I ran my hand down over my face to wipe away emotion. "Mel's gonna see you soon. We'll get you outta here."

"No foolin'?" he almost whispered.

He needed a pep talk I wasn't qualified to give. Emotional comfort was above my pay grade.

I almost put my palm to the glass to pretend I could feel his skin. Silly thing that. I slipped my hand in my pocket to rid it of the uninvited urge. It trembled a bit.

"Brian you're not go to go looking for Hobbs?" Justin's voice sounded like a question but in his eyes it was a statement. "Please." he pleaded.

I probably shouldn't go. I was still going to. I was shit at following orders.

* * *

><p>Khaki Wacky- Boy crazy<br>No foolin'?- No kidding?/Do you meant it?  
>Above my pay grade- Not my area<br>"So far in the closet he's finding Christmas presents."-Family Guy 


	19. Open the Door Richard!

'The Locker Room.' I looked up at the building and gave myself one last chance to talk me out of it.

Per habit, I glanced to the angel on my right shoulder. Admittedly, he'd gone considerably quieter in recent years. He usually just shakes his head now in disapproval.

I looked to the horny fella on my left. Shoulder Vacant. That red bastard hadn't even bothered to show. Most probably he was off nursing the brown bottle flu. Of course, he could've also lain crushed somewhere beneath the weight of my indiscretions.

I guessed I was on my own. My own. The only place I'd ever belonged.

My eyes searched for, but couldn't find a point of entry.

All the doors I could see stood chained. Several windows had lost their glass and their option of use. They loomed tens of feet above me; and like most higher-ups, stared down at me (the little guy) with taunting unattainability. Jerks.

I walked around the warehouse. A wall I didn't recall blocked the back. Lucky for us, I'm a rear entry expert.

I scrolled my hand along the top of the rough bricks attempting to gauge it's height. It was a calculated risk, but I wasn't no good at math.

Yeah I could climb that wall. I could be a hero from one of Gus' comic books. I sure could.

Shut up, I could.

I did. Once my legs decided to cooperate or their variation thereof.

I struggled to lift my body; my ankle slipped like Gus' shoes and my fingertips cursed me out.

Soon enough I was ass over elbows and hero-ing the hell outta the situation.

I got to the top and had a brief surge of superiority, very brief.

Ass over elbow over elbow over ass. Turning, tumbles, tilts and thumps. Well, that was not as graceful as I'd have liked.

Almost a hero but not quite.

The ground and my ass made our introductions. The stinging was a stabbing one.

I had to get up. Which meant I had to get up. I wasn't yet prepared for that deep a commitment.

I stood and dusted and smoothed my suit. Priorities.

A few paces past piles of debris I spotted a door. An ordinary hunk of metal with an extraordinary feature. It was chain free.

You could say I pushed my way in like a fantastical cop saving a day.

But if you did you'd be incorrect.

The absence of restricting chains did little to loosen the long rusted hinges. I'd slammed my shoulder against the thing for absolutely no purpose whatsoever.

A stray hound barked in the distance and I remembered my feisty pal Hinky.

Less fondly, I recalled the mutt's fuddy-duddy muddy buddy, Richard. Yeah, good Ol' Dick from the 'No Tell' Motel.

Never thought I'd say this, but I'd wished to see his ugly mug about then. He could've given me one of his many keys to check into the joint. Everything jiggled as I took my frustration out on the handle. "Open the door Richard." I grumbled into the air.

Somewhere the hound who wasn't Hinky howled.

I gave the metal a final head-butt when my sight saw something spectacular.

An open window low enough to meet my standards.

I moved aside the boxes blocking the view and climbed. "Yeah, now we're cookin' with gas." I congratulated myself.

My quiet thud still managed to echo when it hit the floor. Something furry scurried that I had no whim to investigate.

I greeted the vast space like the old friend it was. The bar where I had so often sat now stood unsteady; likely from years of absorbing cheap hooch and drunken tears. A heavy layer of dust and residual sin covered all that remained.

I stifled a sneeze and made my way to something I deemed worthy of making my way to.

In the nearby corner sat a mattress more stained with filth than even my own mind. Beside it tattered, battered boxes formed makeshift tables. Innovative but hideous. But I wasn't there for decorating tips.

I zeroed in on the contents the tables held close. Empty bottles, forgotten smokes and a small pile of paper begging to be rifled through. So I rifled.

They were old newspaper clippings from Honeycutt's dream. Coverage of Ethan's disappearance, his stabbing at the motel. Other smaller articles mentioned Cody's knocks, over and off.

There was one more that made me cold. It was older than the rest, worn smooth with age.

'Prestigious Art Fair finds Pittsburgh.' The grainy, gray-scaled image could've been a glossy coated eight by ten for as clearly as I could see him. Justin Taylor's smile shined even in the darkness of the photo. He stood beside an easel on which sat a painting I couldn't critique. I knew shit about art.

Creepies creeped up on me thinking of Hobbs, the creepy creep.

It was the first time in my life I'd wished I'd been wrong. This man had indeed kept too close an eye on this kid. For years.

I felt nauseous.

I couldn't digest the fact that Chris had stolen Justin's private privacy. Innocent moments when he'd thought he'd been alone. Once again this man had taken Taylor's memories. Though this time he didn't remove 'em with force.

My stomach took up gymnastics.

Several more articles followed the ponies, including the Triple Crown race that made Gold a millionaire. Certainly Hobbs had gotten wind of the windfall and upped his own ante.

After all, there are only so many ways to deal with a blackmailer. Pay him, expose your own secret, kill him or ignore him and catch the kill yourself.

I was further convinced that Ethan was going to tell Justin of his affairs; was going to show him his winnings and hope that he could buy forgiveness.

I felt a small sadness for Gold and for Cody too.

That kid was dragged into this solely on his want to protect Justin. At some point Hobbs must've run into Cody, leaving drag marks that lead him right to his death. The poor bastard.

I wanted to see Chris arrested to vindicate Justin but also to render some justice for both men that cared for him. In just a short time I'd been willing to do a great many things for Taylor, I could only imagine the limits I'd go with years of knowing.

I sat the papers down and tossed a sideways glance. Two leather billfolds were stacked and not dusted with dust.

I flipped through them finding IDs for Gold and Bell. Also present were crumpled receipts for a corner market dated (I noticed) after their deaths. Hobbs was using his victim's own money to fund his snacks, smokes and overall sinister sneakiness.

He sure was serving up a right slice of psycho.

Upon placing the wallets back on the table I saw something else, a picture of Justin and Ethan. A candid shot that further enhanced Hobbs' obsession. In the photo Ethan's face had been angrily scratched out.

And ain't that just the icing on his crazy cake.

A sudden sound of shattering pulled my focus; a crystalline tinkling echoed throughout the warehouse.

I wasn't alone.

My instinctive hand found the gun in the holster. I didn't pull it but my hand rested beneath my lapel.

My eyes struggled to see anything. With the dust and the dusk it was darker than it needed to be. I could've benefited from Melanie's presence right then… She can really brighten up a room when she leaves it.

A flash of movement caught my eye. The kid from Daphne's yearbook (aged some years) emerged from the shadows.

Hobbs. H. Holy Hell in a Handbasket.

Why had I ever thought this was a good idea?

* * *

><p>Brown bottle flu- Hangover<br>Fuddy-Duddy- Boring/No fun  
>Mug- Face<br>Cooking with gas- On the right track  
>Billfold- Wallet<p> 


	20. Five More Minutes

Believe me when I tell ya there's a difference in a man's eyes when they're touched by madness. A sight that can't see reason but _can_ give you the willies. Hobbs' stare was swimming in an unhinged sea.

He still managed not to deter it from my own. His eyes bore into me forcing me to hold the gaze. I was reminded me of all of the times Justin had coerced me into a staring contest. Watching this palooka watch me triggered my blink. This truly was not my game. He huffed a little more smugly than I'd have preferred before he too looked away.

"Detective Kinney." He spoke like he'd known me all my life. I didn't like that much at all. "Nice of you to drop by, is it just you?" he added, stretching his neck a little toward a door I hadn't used.

I'd first assumed he'd meant to see if I was shadowed by the brass but the freak flicker is his green eyes told me he'd meant Justin. I liked that even less. The mere thought of these creepy eyeballs eyeballing the blond drove my hands into fists.

"Justin's not here." I told him with an unverified sense of authority, of claim. "He's in jail, right where you put him."

"Pity." He gave a tsk of his tongue and settled himself atop a dusty crate.

I cringed at the word. Pity made my dick soft. Justin didn't need anything from this man, especially that.

"I never planned on this you know." He talked like we was buddies bonding between beers. "I just wanted to show him," he flicked his eyes to mine again and this time they didn't falter. "Show him how he ruined everything for me. In the 'Locker Room'…"he trailed off presumably revisiting the memory I wished I'd never known.

I couldn't tell from his half rambled sentences just what he'd meant. Either Justin had changed Chris' worldview for the better or for worse. His crooked smile gave no further distinction. Did he hate Justin? Love him? Was he jealous of Justin? Of Ethan? A smaller thought tugged my brain... of me?

"That stupid, stupid musician." Hobbs seemed to talk as much to himself as to me. "I weren't plannin' to off him. Just make a buck or a million." He let out a wistful sigh. "I was going to make him tell Justin how pathetic he was. Tell him he couldn't keep his pants zipped or his mouth shut. Justin would've seen."

Hobbs stood then, began pacing like the caged beast that was his rage. I could see it even then, his re-clenching fists, his muscles taught. His mouth, a tight line spoke more.

"I asked him to come alone to the Motel. You just had to show up and ruin things. Like you do." He nearly spat. "I saw Bell palm you that scrap of paper at Popperz too. Had to stop him from opening his head." He explained trying to make me feel the guilt of Cody's death. Which I did, a smidgen.

I also felt dizzy at the realization that Justin and I had been followed, watched.

Hobbs hadn't sounded nearly as affected by Ethan's stabbing. "Gold was just such a sniveling coward. Weak. I did him a favor. Justin taking the fall, a bonus for me I suppose."

I had a time trying to track his train of thought. It was seriously derailed.

"Huh. Who knew people actually gave villain speeches?" I said almost absentmindedly. "Should I pause now for your Mwah-ha-has?"

I sassed my yap 'cause that's my shtick.

Hobbs was not amused. His eyes turned to slits that seared me where I stood."And now here you are. _Again_ where you don't belong." He laid heavy the double meaning, I did not belong with Justin Taylor.

Hobbs' posture relaxed and he gave me a grin. It was all downhill from the grin.

I'd given too much credit to Chris' calm demeanor. Too soon for me to move I saw it. The barrel of a bean shooter, shooting _toward_ me_._

'_I make friends wherever I go.'_

I'd come to save the day and all I'd gotten was a slug in the shoulder for my trouble. The bullet hadn't even stopped to ask for directions. Nope. It just tore into my left shoulder and I'll say I didn't let out a shriek.

You weren't there so I can tell you anything I want.

That sonofabitch actually shot me. I'd actually been shot by that sonofabitch.

Before I could grab my own gun, my fallen form could see Hobbs' cheap shoes running away from my vision. So guess who'd just wrecked the day?

I tried to rise but felt the searing pain from the wounds in my arm and my pride. I was going to need a minute. I turned on my side and maybe I cried. Make that two. Five more minutes.

This was it. Sleepy dead. X's on eyes.

It's true what they say, my life flashed before them. There was a lot of…naked.

Those eyes fluttered closed as I lay there enjoying wallowing in my misery when the faint sound of sirens grew closer than I'd hoped. Carl. Christ.

"I can't believe you came here alone." Carl's gruff voice found me a little while later. It was accompanied by a rough kick to my loafer.

"I can't believe you can't believe it." I replied with my eyes still closed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

I told him Hobbs had hoofed it but left out just how easily he'd caught me off guard. I heard Horvath holler for first aid then felt him kneel beside me.

"Where's your head son?" he started strong then softened, "Jesus kid, I saw you laying here and I thought if he's ain't dead I'm gonna kill him. I thought you had some sense!"

"Ah, your first mistake." I looked at him. He looked at me. We looked at each other but didn't speak.

The ambulance worker was now hovering around my shoulder. It seemed it wasn't quite as bad as I'd guessed. But it certainly hurt enough to warrant my moans. My groans.

"It's a flesh wound Brian." Carl said with a roll of his eyes but I knew he was relieved. Him and me both.

"What about this Taylor kid has you risking so much?" Carl fired the loaded question. I think I'd have preferred the bullet.

I was granted a reprieve from the question by the medic's voice asking another. "Would you like some ice?"

"If it comes with scotch." I said, wincing one final time before the bandage was wrapped.

Carl had known me long enough not to expect no heart to heart. He just sighed and stood.

"They've processed the prints from both scenes; all a match to Hobbs' file. Also, you'll be pleased to know Justin has a solid alibi for Bell's job. Seems he was at a corner delicatessen." He pulled a notepad from his pocket and read. "Purchased coffee beans and a slew of other breakfast items."

I recalled again the flapjacks I never got to taste. Carl met my eyes directly then, "I've started the paperwork for his release. And as for Hobbs…" I stiffened feeling Carl's hand embrace my arm "…we'll get him." He said it like a promise that I wanted to believe.

* * *

><p>Willies- Creeps Uneasy feeling  
>Palooka- Thug<br>Brass- Police force  
>Bean shooter- Gun<p> 


	21. As Time Goes By

So, I'd ruined the day the Kinney way and got a pain in the … arm for my trouble. (Arm was much safer to say than heart.) A part which, if it's to be believed, I ain't got.

All I know is that there was as big a sting in my chest as there was in my shoulder. I tried to wonder what the feeling may've been but soon got annoyed by my own lack of sarcasm and stopped wondering.

Regardless it was in there, all un-sarcastic and stingy.

At least I had Alleghany General's _finely designed_ (Read: ugly as my uncle's sister) sling to hold my arm to my chest. I hoped it would keep the feeling from leaking out.

It was slightly slippy and somewhat straining to drive Justin to the train station one handed. The swishing of the wipers whipped worry with the wind and water on the windshield.

At the Warehouse , Carl's boys had hit pay dirt in the evidence department. As well you know, Hobbs had had a collection of ridiculously clichéd 'Bad guy stuff'. The paper clippings, journal entries, weapons, prints ( I'd learned, matched those from both the motel and Cody's place),of course their wallets and other items of Justin's .

His guilt was as ready for the taking as every twink that ever twinkled my eye. Yet he wasn't where he was supposed to be. He was supposed to have been sent to his cell without supper, to think about what he had done.

I had apologized to Justin and also housed regret (Quick, someone note the rarity of this occasion) that I hadn't listened. That I'd went off on my own like the bratty child I often am.

Taylor however hadn't blamed me. He was just relieved I was okay. I wasn't okay.

Although he'd only spent one night in lock up, Hobbs was on the lam. Justin was in danger in the Pitts. The place where I was.

He was soon to be heading on a track to nowhere I was allowed to know.

A safe house.

Where he'd be safe.

I'd dicked around and I'd gotten Justin taken away. I didn't deserve to play with him.

The silence was a thing I was grateful for. I hated it too.

I knew this was one of the last times I could talk to the blond. I was nowhere near prepared to think it would be my last ever. I started and stopped whatever word my mouth was going to say (it hadn't filled me in) as often as the indecisive downpour.

By the time I'd parked on the side of the station it had found us again; that annoying cloud that always seemed to know right where I was.

We sat for a moment inside the lines of a quiet that needed colored in.

I turned off the Jeepster leaving the next move up to him. He unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed a breath. I inhaled to catch it as it went.

Justin's eyes held a smirk they didn't share with his lips. Instinctively, I dropped my eyes to those lips and he licked 'em.

Those lips picked up the smirk his eyes had dropped . I could tell they could tell I was thinking naughty things about 'em.

I wanted to kiss every lip on his face.

What happened next was his own fault really, looking all kissable.

His perfectly pouty pout pleading me to please it, with pleasure.

He tried to peek in my windows again. I let the gaze linger as long as I could. Until it looked too much like the future that I had to close my eyes. I blinked and focused somewhere near his knees. There'd be no more looks like thank you very much.

My peripheral eye-line caught his movement.

His breath.  
>My breath.<p>

Soon too close to tell the difference. A feather light dusting of his air on mine.

His bottom lip fell slack awaiting mine to catch it. Though I'm more of a pitcher I'd caught it with ease.

His lips were so soft that they sent my own tingling about. He licked my tongue, my teeth. You know, all the tingly spots. My tongue tried to taste his tingles too.

I felt a surge of heat that could've just as easily been cold. It reminded my nerves of frostbite submerged in warmth. The juxtaposition went straight to my pants, where there was only hotly heated hotness.

I hated he was leaving. Was sorry too. I tried to tell him as much with that kiss. And If I'm recalling correctly, with his deepening plunder and rough tug to my hair, he'd heard me.

"See me off Detective?" He whispered into my mouth before pulling back. It tempted my taste buds and trickled down my throat.

I sadly simmered my steamy stuff and heard the word '_see'_ he'd spoken; not the '_get'_ I'd been hoping for.

He leaned over me as far as he could and I may have whimpered a bit with him pressed against me. He unclicked my seatbelt and I both cursed and thanked my restricted arm. I knew with a certainty only I could, that if given the freedom, I'd have touched his body and he'd miss his train. I scrambled from the car.

To my relief the stubborn cloud hadn't spilled me drenched. It held it's ammunition. I glanced to Justin who was closing the passenger door; maybe Sunshine chased the rain away.

Taylor was off the hook but Hobbs still dangled on it. I'd asked Carl if I could bring him to the train but then I had to pass the buck to one of his men.

I'd waited outside that morning as he said goodbye to Daphne. She too couldn't know where he was dusting out to. A part of me had stayed behind to give them privacy. Another, self-preserving part wasn't keen to face her face. I was the reason her friend was running. I didn't particularly want to buy the farm just yet. I'd look terrible in overalls.

I led him up the stairs to the rattler by the small of his back. To touch him just a touch.

Ticket in hand he turned to me. I think he was going to speak but no words made it out. A small, quizzical smile smiled at me and he pulled me into a hug. A hug we both needed. Again I was grateful for my out of commission limb. If not for the sling I'd have held him there too long. We stood like that, three hugging arms and two silent tongues.

The boarding call was an incessant thing. An unexpected emptiness had me itching to board a blond. To grab him and have him right then and there. It's always better to come before you go.

But apparently there are some legitimate laws and a general rule that you don't have sex in a train station. More specifically frowned upon, in front of several members of law enforcement and an audience of the general public. I wanted to send a glare to the people and a letter to the editor because seriously, who writes this shit?

Christ what was wrong with me? It was just a goodbye. I'd see him again, perhaps.

Or perhaps, as time goes by he'll find someone new to treasure his smile and share his view from the picturesque window I've never been able to see.

Except now…I wanted to. Wanted to sip coffee from those stupid porcelain cups and stare at fruit too pretty to eat. Wanted to read the newspaper across from him and discuss laundry detergent and fucking Tupperware. Godammit.

So what if his eyes were to die for and his smile was infectious. Who the hell wants to die of an infection anyway?

It was only time. It wasn't gonna hurt.

Only it did. Like a motherfucker.

A moment ago he was there then he wasn't. Now I will only admit this once. As I watched him go, I slipped my good hand into my pocket…to stop from reaching out.

Pass the buck- Hand off blame  
>Dusting out- Leaving<br>Buy the Farm- Die  
>Rattler- Train<br>"…kiss every lip on her face."-Dead men don't wear plaid (1982) 


	22. YouMadeMeLove You I Didn't Want to Do it

**A/N:**

Hello you amazingly patient, wonderful people. I just wanted to give a giant genuine thank you for following  
>this through until the took a lot or work to get this out, but it was also filled with a lot of love.<br>I am hoping to soon restore faith in any previous readers wary of my consitency in posting. I am going to  
>finish my Halloween then focus on my other WIP. After that I won't post a new story unless I have it written.<br>You deserve timely updates and completed once again thank you so much for finishing Kiss Me Deadly.  
>I appreciate you all so much.~hugs-n-such~Mandi<p>

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><p>A four fingered man waved at me from his page, his blue crayon face smiled. It was the picture Gus had drawn for me six weeks ago. He'd hand delivered it on his first visit to my office. I've seen him several times since.<p>

Who'd have thunk it? A crumb snatcher of my very own. I could get used to it. I _wanted_ to get used to it. He hadn't known that yet, but I was Mr. Brian. His friend Detective secret sharer and that was good enough for us both.

The setting sun was painting a darker tint on the room. I gave a yank to the chain of my desk lamp to better see the paper.

I'd made good on my promise to Emmy Lou, I'd also gotten Lindsay to call in a favor to the 'Pittsburgh Post-Gazette'. There it was, my good deed in print. The front page article, byline Emmett Honeycutt.

Hobbs had been caught trying to hop a bus across the border but they dragged him back to Pittsburgh. P.A's D.A was throwing the book at him. I hoped the toss would knock him out.

There was one less criminal committing crime in the Pitts. Of course, there'll always be an abundance of bad guys doing bad things but they will be the Bulls' business.

Though honored by Carl's Chief's offer to rejoin the force, I'd declined. I chose to stay on my own. The one place I've ever really belonged.

Yeah, yeah I know that's not as true anymore as I'd like it to be. There was somebody I wanted next to my body.

I still didn't know where Justin was or when he was coming back. Wherever he was, he was rollin' in dough. Melanie had let me know that Ethan's will had been executed upon Justin's exoneration.

Over the past few weeks I'd tried like the dickens to convince myself I didn't miss him. The whole 'deny 'til I die' regime wasn't really working out for me.

I'd really come to hate the quiet. It made it too damn easy to hear my thoughts. I got lost in some of those so it took a tick of time to hear it.

The rattle of my door knob, the swinging swoop of entrance.

I froze.

Startled, I put down the paper and stood from my chair.

I thawed.

I was looking into blue eyes I could've drawn from memory if I'd had any skill.

I melted.

There was that brilliant smile I'd missed too much to believe. Christ that mouth. You can't see it but I promise it was delicious.

Especially when it rasped, "Detective Kinney."

"Yes? What can I do for you this evening?" I liked to play along.

"My boyfriend…" he started and I had to admit that word wasn't as scary as it was before. "I was wondering if I could hire you to find me, find my…"

"That word that starts with a B?" I prompted, sly as sin and curled my lips under. He meant _me_ you know.

He nodded his head and began playing with the buttons on his shirt. "Money is no object."

Two buttons done. He flashed his eyes to mine. It was a lusty thing, that look. "I can afford any overtime. Even long, hard hours deep into the night."

Last button. Shirt gone. "I can even help look for the fella. Say, it'll be a pleasure to work under you." His hand went to his pants taking my eyes along with it.

I think the room tilted a bit and some of the oxygen fell away, and my knees weren't workin' as well as I'd wished they would.

He stepped out of his stompers then out of his slacks. He tossed em' aside but I didn't see where and refused to look. There was a nearly naked Sunshine in front of me and I intended to bask in him.

He threw me a little wiggle that my breath tried to catch. He started toward me again all angles and eyelashes.

"I'll take the case." My words hitched on their way out. I was gonna move, really. But I swear there were weights somewhere in my legs. I swallowed and shoved off from the desk. I started toward him with a lot more lean than I liked.

There was a lot of fucking gravity in this room.

My mind started mixing up a batch of woo pitchin' scenarios. If Justin was good, I'd let him lick my spoon.

He approached. He was smiling at me, a smirk I didn't trust. The wicked grin of the witch luring Hansel with the promise of tasty treats.

I craved the tasty. I wanted his treats.

Suddenly he was there and bare and it was an ass as amazing as I'd assumed.

"You ain't naked Kinney." He said to me with a disappointed click of his tongue. He scrunched his nose and hell if it wasn't nauseating, annoying or what you bleeding hearts might call...adorable.

"You should be naked." He concluded with a shake of blond hair and an aggressive tug at my belt.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I was a man of action.

I think I hit a new personal best, fastest undress time on record. Too slow however, was the touching. Have you ever realized just how much unbearable agony hides in anticipation?

I watched his eyes trace my lines and I felt myself relax. Lookin' good naked is one of the few places in which I excel.

He studied me like there might be a test later.

I let him look. Education is important.

Justin gave my lips a too quick kiss then I lost the taste of him. He however was getting a right mouthful of me.

I wondered what spice he could taste. My excitement? My …nerves.

That trailing tongue of his was torturing me bonkers; tracing the contours of my stomach muscles.

"Why hello." I heard him purr from somewhere down below.

"I think we're past introductions Sun…" my teasing was thwarted with a soft smack to my abs.

"Quiet you. We're conversin' here." He spoke, annoyed.

He was talking to my goods. My _greats. _He made eye contact with 'em strong enough to bluff a losing hand.

I would've laughed, if the tip of his tongue hadn't strangled the sound with a lick to my tip.

Sweet singin' Sinatra was I likin' the lickin'.

He pulled, me inside his mouth and the air from the room. Sunshine was earning his 'Seduction Suction' merit badge.

I was going to need the surging in my brain to slow it down some. It muffled my ears and I wanted to hear the noises he was makin' unfiltered. Choked off moans and almost words. I tell ya they was doing things…to my other things.

I felt his hands join the festivities and I gasped. Or I didn't. One of those.

His everything was everywhere and I enjoyed the clutter.

I felt fingers impossibly all over, kisses too. It left me tongue tied and bound by pleasure. I wished I could've teased apart the moment. To feel every separate strand of satisfaction. Though, as a whole I admit I weren't feelin' exactly dissatisfied.

I hooked my hands in his hair, silky warmth beneath my shaking fingertips.

He was swallowing my sanity right down his throat. When he was finished he grinned up at me. Torturing. Me. Bonkers.

He returned upright just long enough to meet and lean over my desk. Ah, the business end. Of which I intended to mix with pleasure.

We was fixin' to have us a little ménage à trois. He, me and the desk. Things were sure to be awkward in the office in the morning.

His body spoke before his voice. It was beggin' me to take it but I didn't wanna go anywhere.

Anywhere that wasn't there. There. Unchartered water, undiscovered land. A mysterious place I was almost as afraid to explore as I was ecstatic.

Once I went there would I be able to leave? Would I want to?

In my minds' eye, it flashed above his ass like the flickering neon of Babylon…

…'Abandon all hope ye who enter here.'

I was flyin' high. Feet above take off and Justin was prepped for landing. I always did have a pilot fantasy.

"Make love to me." He pleaded. His voice a thick pour of sticky lust; the syrup to his pancakes.

"It's called fucking, Sunshine." I grinned. Did I promise youse romance, or did I promise youse romance?

He gave a suspicious half smile. Maybe he hadn't believed me anymore than I had.

This was sex; you know, everyone's favorite whoopee to make. Somehow though, the soft way I caressed his hair, and the gentleness in which I entered him was evidence to the contrary. Being inside Justin had an unexpected familiarity. I'd envisioned the moment so often that it didn't feel like the first time. It was weird, actually knowing someone before my penis did. It was nice too.

We'd just found our rhythm when I felt his hand reach back and grip my wrist.

Beneath me were broken breaths. From the bent blond arose such a clatter. Bouncing babbles from his chest; he too was about to shatter. See there? The feeling of him was makin' me nutty. His body knew all the moves to get me movin'. His ass was a weapon as lethal as his lips. I was tempted to compose bad poetry in it's honor and build it a church.

I hadn't believed in anything in a long time. But I was starting to think I could. In him. The mind, body and soul bullshit.

Every movement effectively withdrew noise from us both. He was speakin' my language. I may never be a man to talk about my feelings, but I sure can sound em' out.

He sang a note that shivered my timbers and I aimed to learn the key that'd played that little diddy.

For an undisclosed amount of moments , I remained focused on the task at hand and below. I saw only him and the thoughts he was blowin' around in my mind. They swirled with my swiveling hips. So, sorry to say, you'll have to come up with your own zingers for a few. Ain't no time for introspective…

Grunt…

Gasp…

Groan…

"God."…

…My name, over and over.

Hallelujah! Cue the Chorus! The heavens broke open, the angels sang and all that meaningful malarkey.

The view from the Sunshine finish line was unbeatable.

We took some time to catch the breath that'd run away. I collapsed onto his back, smooth and damp with the sheen of sex. I inhaled the scent along his shoulder blade. It seemed right to kiss it. So I did.

I'd heard his content little sigh as he pulled away and lowered us to the floor. We lay there, side by side. Hair askew. We smiled. His gentle hand wrapped it's way around my chest; and my own was helpless to stop from wrapping back.

I'd never simply held anyone before. Then. There. With our current arrangement of limbs was the first time I'd understood myself.

I cared about him. A lot. He'd made me, I didn't want to do it. I'll tell no one except myself but don't worry, I won't believe me.

All that deep thinking was flowing through my brain. But my head wasn't the only thing poundin', my heart was too. Justin's was blatantly beating a bit for me too. I could tell by his peeper's sneaky peeking beside me. I heard the distinctive clink of the bracelets he dangled, beggin' for a bad boy to book. "I didn't hire you to daydream Detective."

I didn't need to see his smile to know that it was sneaky too. He was right. I was ready to earn my overtime.

I'd never thought that day would come; when the tin heart behind the tin badge turned soft.

But I've figured it out see. I am a Detective after all.

I know the day.

Yeah, that's when it happened.

When he came along.

Now then, this is the part where we part my friends. Youse gotta get outta here.

I've got lives to save. A blond to do.

I tell ya we've had us a real humdinger of a fine time, but it's over.

The End.

Period.

End of sentence.

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><p>Throw book at- Maximum legal charge<br>Stompers- Shoes  
>Pitchin' Woo Whoopie- Sex  
>Bonkers- Crazy<br>Diddy- Small/Simple object  
>Malarkey- B.SBull


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